


Lacrimae Rerum

by wilyasha



Series: Firewall [19]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Polyamory, Redemption, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 87,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilyasha/pseuds/wilyasha
Summary: Synthetic quintessence is slowly becoming the main energy source. In the quintants that follow the Kral Zera, the missing case of Zarkon finally hits the coalition. Their fiercest enemy is gone, frozen memories scattered throughout the void, and now Lotor is having mysterious visions. Throughout this new and brutal regime change strangling the Galra Empire, Keith struggles with fatherhood while figuring out if he wishes to become a Defender of the Universe again or stay in his position as a Blade.





	1. Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place a couple of weeks after the events of _Obscurantism_.

The first thing he realizes when his damp eyelids flash open is that he isn’t alone. Warm tears immediately cloud his vision as he tries to focus on the shrouded figure sitting at the foot of his bed. Wildly, he thinks he’s still dreaming. The figure sits straighter, moving as if floating up the edge of the bed, before settling in closer. 

Lotor rests back, body motionless as if in a bout of sleep paralysis. Although he’s incapable of moving, his fingers twitch ever so slightly. A heavy weight rests on his chest, a demon siphoning his quintessence from his aching body. _Is this punishment?_ he thinks. Slowly, so slowly, he lifts a hand. It’s uncomfortable, this grind of bone and gristle of his shoulder…it makes his blood curdle. But it’s too suffocating to stop. He’s being smothered by this shrouded figure. 

He lets out a wail, a terrified shout that would humiliate him if anyone else heard.

“Shh,” says the soothing voice. “I mean you no harm. It has just been…so long since I’ve been able to watch you sleep.”

The tone may be sympathetic and soft, concerned, but the words set his teeth on edge. 

“Tell me: what were you dreaming about?” The woman drops the shroud of her gossamer robe just an inch, her white hair unfurling around her thin shoulders. The sickle-shaped red markings have turned into long tribal lines of unknown origin. 

“Get out,” Lotor says from between clenched teeth. “Get out. Now.”

Honerva fixes her unsettling gaze upon him, narrowing eyes and tight-lipped and staring at him down the length of her nose. It’s unnerving, discomforting. A cruel gaze hidden behind something that is supposed to be maternal.

He hates this. Hates how this woman now feels she can come see him at anytime she desires. He hates how she peeks into his laboratory at the oddest vargas. He hates how she hovers around his sister. How she stares at Kythel and Acxa and Allura. He hates her.

She raises a hand, timidly, before reaching out to smooth back the sweaty strands of white hair sticking to his forehead. Still pinned by some unseen force, he allows her this moment. The threading of her fingers through his hair, the gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp. He grits his teeth, unable to move back from her pawing. 

“Was it the White Lion?” she asks.

Lotor’s eyes widen. “Stop. I’m not having this conversation with you. Not now. Not ever. I won’t allow you to coerce me into submission. I am _not_ Zarkon.”

Honerva slowly withdraws her hand. “You are unlike your father, Lotor.” She lets out a sigh, like the conversation truly isn’t worth having. “You should talk to your sister. Larka will help you with this new discovery. I’m sure she is eager as well.”

“You should leave,” Lotor pauses. “And don’t come into my chambers unannounced again.”

The witch stares at him before rising from the bed. She turns, shroud pulled up around her hair once again as she leaves. With each step she takes away from him, the weight on his body lessens until he’s able to rise from the bed. He kicks at the sheets tangled around his legs and swipes at the sweat on his forehead with the palm of his hand. 

He decides to change the passcode on the keypad outside his room to something a bit more complicated.

~~

Akira wriggles in his arms, babbling nonsense to anyone who will hear.

“Come on, sweet baby,” Keith coos. “We’re going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Larka says, taking her grandchild from Keith’s arm. “I’ll handle the little one.” 

Akira babbles again, arms reaching to play with Larka’s plait that is tossed over her shoulder. Keith shakes his head, idly shoving things into the small satchel as he watches his mother playfully chuff at his daughter.

“She’s so fussy today,” Larka mutters, holding the baby close. 

“Yeah, well she’s the reason we’re going to be late,” Keith says.

“You know you don’t have to come to this meeting,” Larka remarks. “You’re tired. You look exhausted and you refuse to hire a nanny. Shiro has been gone for a movement. Everyone understands.”

“I’m sure everyone understands, but—”

“Y’all ready?” Mick says from the open doorway. “Krolia and Acxa already headed down to meet Thace.” Mick takes one long look between Larka and Keith before frowning. “I though you’d be ready by now.”

“Akira was being fussy,” Larka repeats, like it’s so obvious. And perhaps it is with the cub's chubby arms reaching out towards Mick. 

“Ah,” Mick sighs, quickly crossing the room to pluck Akira out of Larka’s arms. “She wants her granddad today.”

Keith rolls his eyes. His dad is good with Akira, but he’d openly admit that he’s jealous. It’s like his parents take her on with such ease, while he’s struggling to do what is right. Sighing in mild irritation, Keith finally zips up the bag and hitches it over his shoulder before throwing on the baby sling. “Alright, we’re ready.” 

A knock at the open doorway has them all turning. Lotor stands there wearing his old armor…which means he’s been in his laboratory all morning. Here it comes…

“Larka!” Lotor calls out. “Mind if we talk?”

The happy expression on her face falls, leaving behind a look of derision. “Depends on what it’s about.”

“It will only take a moment, sister,” he says, fingers fidgeting at his sides. “I had another—”

“You’re not ready,” Larka pauses. “You’re supposed to be attending these meetings as well, brother. But you lock yourself in your laboratory.”

“For a good reason,” Lotor starts. “I’ve made headway in our research. If you’d only allow me more time. Or you could come visit occasionally.”

“I’ve done this all before, but I need you here and now, Lotor,” she remarks. “Kolivan has called these next few meetings crucial to our next move.”

“He says that about every summit with the Blades,” Lotor says. “Oriande—”

“Oriande can wait,” she says tersely.

Akira must sense the tension in the air because she starts wriggling anew and whining in Mick’s arms. Keith takes a step forward. 

“Lotor, I can fill you in on the meeting later,” Keith says, attempting to be peacemaker. “But maybe lighten up on the research. The both of you need to compromise. We deal with Zarkon, then handle Oriande.”

“He’s gone, dead,” Lotor says. “What more do we need to discuss?”

“Lotor,” Larka interrupts, voice strained. “Don’t. This is necessary. It’s not just about Zarkon. It’s about the synthetic quintessence.” 

Lotor takes a deep breath, grits his teeth, and dismisses himself without another word. When the sound of his footsteps disappear down the hall, Keith finally speaks.

“Don’t you think you’re being too hard on him?” 

“I should transfer him to Olkarion,” Larka mutters. “He’ll be far from _her_. And since when have you become his savior?”

“I’m not saying he needs saving, but maybe you’re right. What do I know…transfer him or put Honerva under the Fortress. House arrest is too good for her.”

“With Allura in the field with Voltron, I need Lotor by my side,” Larka admonishes. “He can’t go gallivanting to his laboratory all the time.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Keith remarks. 

“What?” she sputters. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Earthling for _you’re being a hypocrite, Larka._ ” Mick grins, swaying a calming Akira in his arms.

Keith nods in agreement.

“I know I’m being a hypocrite,” Larka sighs loudly. “That’s why I don’t want him following my work ethic or our mother’s.”

“He has a mind of his own, Mama,” Keith replies. “I’d rather you bring him closer to us than drive him away with insane rules.”

Larka’s cheeks flush.

“All I’m saying,” he adds, sidling up to her and pressing a palm to her shoulder, “is that maybe just listen to what he has to say. These dreams mean something, right? He could have more sage in him than we think. You’ve been avoiding him since he first came to you. He trusts you now. Don’t make that shatter.” 

“You’re too wise for your own good, boy,” Mick says, breaking the momentary silence. “But we’re gonna be late and Kolivan won’t be a happy camper.”

And he isn’t. 

The moment the four of them enter the amphitheater hall, Kolivan eyes them, vexed, before continuing on with his conversation with General Raht. 

“How many troops can you spare?” Kolivan asks the general with the thick eyebrows.

“I have ten warships to my name,” Raht begins, “each with a crew of one hundred soldiers and three hundred sentries. At the rate that Sendak is attacking the renovated quintessence supply line, I can spare you three to handle Central Command.”

“We’ll need the extra soldiers to take back Central Command,” Krolia says from the opposite side of the hall, her arms folded across her chest. Acxa quietly sits between her and Thace. “Three warships won’t be enough to take the mobile capitol back.”

“We’re not keeping it,” Larka says, finally settling into the makeshift throne at the pitted dais of the amphitheater. It’s unlike the one at Central Command and completely different than the elegant one in the Fortress. The amphitheater throne is a stony monolith, formless and structured without much Galra architecture. Like it had been shoved into place after the Attack on Gal, but it serves its purpose. “We take what scraps we can. Weapons from the arena, equipment from Honerva’s laboratories and storage facilities. Then we blow the entire space station.”

“If I might interject, Empress Larka,” Quartermaster Janka interrupts, leaving Ladnok to roll her eyes. “Should we not focus on the supply line? It is the most important part of our equation to your success.”

“This isn’t about _my_ success,” Larka admonishes. “It’s about the success of the coalition. Zarkon is…Zarkon may be gone but his goals still live on in commanders such as Sendak and Gnov and Ranveig. We can’t allow that to spread.”

“Central Command has been the nest of the military for ten thousand years,” Dayak criticizes bluntly. “We can take more from it than simply weapons and scientific equipment. There is heritage there.”

“Our heritage is now on Gal,” Larka says. “And the empire now has an obligation to care for the people of the coalition. Shutting down Central Command means more. The face of Zarkon’s Empire will be gone. What is left of his reign will no longer be able to reach out with its tendrils.”

“A vulgar analogy,” Dayak remarks with a curled upper lip.

“But one that’s true,” Krolia adds, attempting to stifle her laughter.

“So, what would you have me do?” Raht asks. “Send five ships instead of three?”

“Three ships are enough,” Kolivan orders, “but we will require two more for the next task.”

“And what is that?” Ladnok inquires. “This is costing as more than I had thought. I don’t regret joining you, Empress Larka. But besides our faction, Sendak’s has the next highest amount of loyalists. If we go to war with him—”

“We’re already at war with him,” Keith says. “There’s not much we can do but fight him for resources.”

“That or kill him,” Ulaz adds sourly.

“Which brings me to my next topic. Thace,” Kolivan prompts with a gesture of his hand.

Thace nods, tapping his wrist device. A holo-screen erupts from the floor between the stands and the throne. Several tabs open on the large screen, each displaying a map of a different planet or moon.

“Occupied planets,” Keith murmurs, holding a squirming Akira closer.

“You are right, son,” Thace says. “We’re going to free the occupied planets from imperial control.”

“What?” Ladnok asks, flummoxed. 

Larka nods. “It will take time, but we will relinquish control. They will have their established governments. We will redistribute resources to them for the next ten thousand years as recompense. I’ll sign a law into place on the equinox. We offer them protection and trade. We work with these worlds from now on. It’s the only way we see the next millennium of our expansion.”

Keith’s blood runs cold. His head twists to watch his mom. _Expansion?_ What happened to stopping all of this? All this corruption by the hands of Zarkon. Of course the quintessence is needed. Zarkon had caused the entire universe to be dependent on it as fuel and for longevity. But the expansion. They don’t need it. _We can stop that,_ he thinks heatedly. 

“Many will not follow through with this,” Ladnok says, hesitant. “It’s not how we’ve done things.”

Keith seethes in his seat, reluctant to turn away from his leadership’s choices. “It’s what being a part of the coalition is all about. Helping one another, working together to make something better for the future…something that works for everyone. Not just the Galra.”

He wants to make a statement on the expansion, make a comment that they don’t need it, but he slowly watches as the commanders and Blades nod together. They agree with him, for an entirely different reason. He lets out a breath of relief anyway. Unease was stirring in his gut since he entered the room. When he looks over to Kolivan, he sees a small, proud smile on his leader’s face. Is he happy with this choice on continuing with the expansion model? How can they free worlds one moment and capture others the next? Unless…

“This expansion,” Keith starts, unwilling to keep his mouth shut on this, “are we to take over worlds with native, indigenous species?”

Krolia shakes her head. “Only worlds unoccupied. We won’t be following Zarkon’s plans. We’re making our own.” She addresses everyone, clearing up any ideas that they’d be using violence and work camps. 

“I don’t want to put pressure on you all,” Larka starts. “We’ll deal with Central Command first, move on to the supply line, make sure the pipeline is working to distribute the synthetic quintessence. I’ll leave that to you, Quartermaster Janka?”

“Yes,” Janka warbles excitedly.

“Good,” Larka smiles. “Then once the main territories of the coalition are dealt with, we can move on to the occupied worlds.”

\--

Keith finds Shiro in their bedroom when he returns that evening. He’s lying across the bed with his face buried in the soft quilt. 

“How’d it go?” Shiro rumbles, sitting up. “At the meeting?”

“The usual,” Keith starts, setting Akira down in her bassinet. “Lotor didn’t show up again but we discussed the synthetic quintessence.” He keeps the expansion discussion off his lips. Better to keep that a low priority on Shiro’s busy schedule.

“Central Command?”

“Raht and Ladnok are both giving ships to the mission,” Keith replies. “Although we’ll need extra ships from the coalition to deal with Throk and Sniv. Apparently spies reported to Kolivan that they’re ruling their mini-kingdom rather well, but they’re running out of resources with the quintessence supply line shut down in that region.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t started fighting one another,” Shiro murmurs, rolling onto his back. “Did Blade leadership bring up the colonies?”

Keith winces. “By the end of the meeting, they all saw sense. It will be better to free them than lording over them.”

“Hopefully they all agree,” Shiro says, beckoning Keith over with a raised hand.

The Blade smiles before pouncing on Shiro. 

“You’ve got to be quiet,” Keith murmurs, nuzzling his nose against Shiro’s cheek. “Akira fell asleep on the walk back.”

“Finally,” Shiro murmurs. 

“Umaala radioed in—” Keith is interrupted by Shiro capturing his warm lips with his own. It’s sweet and soft and slow, much different than their restless, waning kisses taken between meetings and missions. Keith threads his fingers though Shiro’s hair, pressing himself closer until they’re in their own hazy cocoon. Shiro’s hands drifts to Keith’s sides, wrapping around his waist and then—

Akira makes a stifled cry.

Shiro sighs against Keith’s open mouth. The Blade silently rolls off of Shiro so his boyfriend can amble towards the bassinet and swaddle their baby in his arms.

“I want to go back into the field,” he says suddenly. “They’re planning this Central Command operation.” He should ask Shiro about his trip to Arus, but the words had been desperate to escape his mouth since that morning when he dined with his parents and sister. The only person he had told was his mother and she had said words that he resented. _“Take your time. Don’t rush this. I wish I hadn’t with you.”_ Her words had been enough to set him off on some long-winded speech about abandoning children on foreign planets and how he _wasn’t_ doing that. That conversation had been a week ago. “I’m ready.”

Shiro lets out a loud sigh before turning his back to him. “Dayak’s been a helicopter over Akira. I think she wants to be her governess.”

“Absolutely not,” Keith says, “but why are you avoiding this discussion?”

“I’m not avoiding it,” he says turning to face Keith. “But there’s going to be sacrifices with you taking field missions.”

“My fathers aren’t taking any field missions right now,” Keith remarks. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to take care of Akira every once in a while.”

“Yeah, but is that fair to them?” 

“This isn’t just a job,” Keith hisses. “We’re not getting paid to save planets from Zarkon’s minions.”

“This is an altruistic endeavor, Keith, I know that,” Shiro says through clenched teeth. “But maybe this is a good opportunity for one of us to sit out on these fights.”

“Like me?”

“Yes, like you.”

Keith folds his arms across his chest and stares at the door leading to the closet. “Everyone is on their own missions and I’m stuck here—”

“Caring for Akira?” Shiro supplies. He lets out a ragged breath, shifting their daughter in his arms to run a hand through his hair. “I know you’re on edge, Keith. But you just have to be patient. We’ll figure something out.”

The room is silent for a moment until something clicks in Keith’s head.

 _Zarkon._ The last few weeks have been revolving around Zarkon since he went missing during the Attack on Gal. Sendak and Gnov had taken that moment to take over until the Kral Zera. But it hadn’t worked out in their favor. 

“You’re worried too,” Keith says, words barely a whisper.

It’s uncanny, almost scary, how attuned they are to each other’s problems.

“Where could he have gone?” Shiro stares down at the floor, gently swaying with the cub in his arms. “I refuse to believe that he’s dead.”

“Where do you think he could have gone?” Keith asks. 

A dark look passes over Shiro’s features, square jaw clenching furiously. “Anywhere but the afterlife.”


	2. Changing Seasons

The next quintant, Keith arrives at the gymnasium early. Shiro had decided to sleep in, and he had left Akira with Mick who had always been an early riser. His curled fist makes impact with the punching bag. The suspended weight moves back with each blow before righting itself once more. Keith uncurls his fist, flexing his fingers. 

Last night’s conversation had left a sour taste in his mouth. It sounded like everyone was moving on from Zarkon except Shiro. Lotor wanted to seek out Oriande, the other paladins were taking the coming month to do a tour of the liberated planets, and the Blades were perfecting the quintessence line. And here he was, cooped up in the Fortress where his only source of entertainment was to venture to the gymnasium or the bath hall. 

A part of him—the part he forced deep down—felt guilty about wanting to get back into the field. But the feeling was shrouded, clouded over by Zarkon’s disappearance. The mad emperor left a gaping maw within the coalition, impeding their goals and future tribulations. They had spent years—centuries, really—trying to vanquish his evil. Now that his disappearance was noticeable, it was all Keith could focus on. How did his grandfather die? If he had even died…

“If you think any harder, your eyebrows will fall off,” says a voice. Lotor stands off to the side, wrapping his hands in the same thin material that is covered around Keith’s hands. “What bothers you?”

Keith shrugs. “What bothers you?”

“How much free time do you have?” Lotor asks playfully, a smile cracking at the corner of his lips. “If you have need of a list, I can draw it up.”

Keith tries to keep down the smile that threatens to tug at his own face. “I’m surprised you could pull yourself away from your laboratory.”

“I needed the fresh air,” Lotor says. “A quick spar will be revitalizing to me.”

“And you think I will spar with you?”

“You expect me to spar with any of these plebeians?” He asks, gesturing at the others around the gymnasium, all too busy to even spare the princes a glance.

“No one wants to spar with you when you have that attitude,” Keith remarks. 

“Are you done trying to verbally spar with me?” Lotor asked. “Or can we start already?”

Keith shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest. “You came here for something else? Tell me.”

“Talk to her,” Lotor says, dropping all pretense. “She’ll listen to you.”

“Not about this,” Keith says. “Not about Oriande.”

“She’ll see reason if you’re the one who approaches her,” Lotor complains. “I’ve been having these dreams. Have you not had dreams before that lead to more? Visions? Telling you where next to go.” He pauses, eyes searching Keith’s face. “I know you have. And I am now.”

Keith had never had _visions_ before. Yes, he had dreams that foretold something, a hidden meaning that always led to his family. But not a true vision. No white lion had ever come to visit him. 

“Lotor,” Keith sighs. 

“Please, Keith.”

The younger prince’s breath catches in his throat. Not only is Lotor pleading, but Keith can never remember a time when Lotor had called him by his human name.

“These visions,” Lotor continues. “He’s calling me. Telling me where to go. I have maps, sketches of possible areas we can visit. Multiple places that may lead to the hidden location. All the information that I’ve gathered from my mother leads someplace. If you can get your mother to agree, she could rope in Coran, Allura, and the short one. We can only have Alteans we trust in this endeavor.”

“You trust Pidge, but you don’t trust the Imperials?” Keith asks.

“They aren’t family.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Lotor,” Keith says. “Solthro is an Imperial and he’s Pidge’s dad. That makes him family. And until he screws up and does something scientifically illegal again, we treat him as family.”

Lotor scoffs, turning away from Keith and grabbing the attention of two onlookers heading to the connected refectory.

“The dreams are frightening,” Lotor admits quietly. “The more I have them, the more intense they get. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Mom doesn’t want you around Honerva,” Keith recalls. “She’s still under house arrest and—”

“ _The witch_ is not brainwashing me,” Lotor hisses. 

Before Keith can comment on his sudden aggression, Acxa nimbly sidles up next to Keith. Startled, the princes nearly lose their footing.

“How long have you been here?” Keith asks, once he rights himself.

“Not long,” Acxa replies. “Ilun’s got me running stealth courses. I’m glad it’s working.”

“I’m not,” Keith says sourly. Acxa’s presence is already quiet and uncertain. Now her stealth will be even better. It’s good for in the field, not when Keith is trying to talk Lotor down in the middle of the gymnasium.

Lotor, calm again, regards the both of them coolly. “I almost hate how close the two of you are now.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Jealousy is not a good look, Lotor.”

“An emergency meeting,” Acxa says before Lotor can even make a scathing reply. “Kolivan wants all upper echelon Blades at the amphitheater.”

\--

The amphitheater is a buzz of frenetic energy. The room is overflowing with high level Blades and the three of them have to push and wedge their way through a crowd near the doors to even get through the vestibule. Like the last meeting he attended, Kolivan is already in mid-discussion, this time talking about how to deal with Zarkon’s disappearance and Central Command. When he catches a glimpse of Keith and the others, he stops talking to Larka and Dayak and waves them over. 

Acxa takes the front, plowing through the people milling about or exiting the amphitheater in need of some space and a reprieve. As they get closer, Keith notes that Zethrid is there without Ezor. She’s no doubt at lessons with Ilun.

“Good,” Kolivan says, relieved as he tabs open a portable holo-screen. A map displays a heavily fortified yet damaged planetary base. “You’re here. Sendak has attacked a major outpost six quadrants away. It’s filled to the brim with many of our resources and is a major spot that our supply line takes.”

“How did he find it?” Keith asks. 

“We’re either dealing with an enemy within the coalition,” Kolivan begins.

“Or it could be dumb luck on Sendak’s part,” Larka finishes.

“I’m hoping it is that and not something more threatening,” Kolivan admits. “Regardless of how he was able to manage it, he’s done what he wanted. He’s accomplished his task.”

“And what’s that?” Lotor asks.

“Separating our forces,” Dayak grouses mildly. “He’s thinking we’re relaxed enough with Larka crowned as Empress.”

“He thinks we’re taking a victory lap?” Keith ponders aloud.

Larka nods. “But it doesn’t matter, because we’re more vigilant than ever before.”

“The coalition has sent a few rebel forces and medics to the outpost to help with reconnaissance and evacuation,” Kolivan says. “But the Blade of Marmora must dispatch our own, too. I’m sending Lotor, Zethrid, and Acxa to the site. Assist in any way you can before returning back with some of the evacuees.”

“You’re just trying to get Prince Lotor out of the laboratory, aren’t you?” Zethrid laughs heartily. 

Kolivan’s lips lift for only a tick. “Perhaps, but this is more than simply getting you in the field. Voltron cannot be in two places at once. Their team is scheduled to be at the Balmera in eight vargas. The rest of the coalition must be able to pick up the slack.” 

“I want to go with them,” Keith says quickly. 

“No,” Kolivan says. “I have another task that requires your assistance.” 

Keith is just about to argue when Kolivan dismisses the others. Zethrid claps a big hand against Keith’s shoulder and says, “Better luck next time.”

\--

In the few vargas that follow the emergency meeting, Keith is stuck in the overcrowded amphitheater making plans for the Central Command mission.

“If it’s any consolation, son,” Thace says when he finally arrives, “you will be participating in the field for this assignment.”

It does cheer him up partly, but he has this strong suspicion in the back of his head…like they’ll be relegating him to the backseat of the car during a long family road trip. They’ll be putting him in the field, but only as backup. A backup that won’t be touched. Keith balls his hands into fists. He’ll work his hardest to make sure he’s on that space station during the siege. 

The upper echelon of the Blade of Marmora argues about how to break in. The main decision is to cut off Throk and Sniv’s already dwindling resources. But how to begin the siege is more difficult. How should they take the space station without destroying the finite resources within? Krolia and a few others think they should head straight in, blowing open a side of the main station once getting through Throk’s mediocre defenses. Keith agrees with her. Thace and Ulaz, on the other hand, think only time will tell how they’ll go about the siege; wait until Throk turns on Sniv and use the new alliance before arresting the one survivor. Yet Larka and Kolivan believe in sending two stealth and infiltration teams in—one through an airlock in the druids’ laboratories and another in the housing units—to sabotage Throk from the inside. By the end of the long meeting, it’s almost as if they’ve made no progress. 

In need of a break, Keith hurries from the hall only to be held back by his mother.

“I’ll walk with you,” she says as they head back to the Fortress. “I have to finish a speech later today, but I want to see little Akira before I do.”

Keith smiles. 

They fall into a steady silence, nothing but a calm atmosphere between the two of them. 

“You want to ask me something?” Larka says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Keith bites his tongue. It’s now or never. Rip off the bandage. “It’s about Lotor.”

“He wants to lead a team to find Oriande,” Larka murmurs. “I know what my brother wants.”

“And?”

“My first thought is to say no,” she replies. 

“He’ll keep bothering you about this until you give,” Keith says. “You should say _yes_ on your own terms.”

“What would you do?” she asks calmly.

Keith is quiet for a tick, brows furrowed in thought. “I’m not sure. I think it’s a gamble. It’s some mythological place, right? Someplace we may not be able to find, but he wants to waste resources to search for it. But then again…if we do find it…what if it could help us?”

“It’s a place, not an entity,” Larka reminds him.

“Is it?” he questions. “We don’t entirely know what it could do? For all we know, it could rid the Alteans of their corruption. Isn’t that worth something?”

Larka stills in her walking, momentarily shocked. “You think it could _cleanse_ everyone of the rift’s corruption?” Her face brightens before she starts walking in the opposite direction, towards the science building. “I’ll—I will come see Akira later, I have something I need to check.”

And then she’s off, running someplace Keith refuses to go.

\--

His quintants are like this nowadays. Time spent between being a parent and working with the Blades, and yet he craves something that isn’t there. Something urges him forward, like a gasping plea coaxing him. 

Keith sits on the bed, legs outstretched with Akira lying between them. She’s babbling and giggling to herself, arms stretched towards him. Her tiny fingers tangling in the short, dark braid falling over his shoulder. 

“Alright, I’m leaving now,” Shiro says, grabbing his vest and shouldering it on as he comes out of the private bathroom. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Shay’s grandmother is hosting us, so you know where to call if you need me.”

Keith sighs. “I wish we could come with you.”

“I need you both here, Keith,” Shiro comments, taking a few steps towards the bed and pressing a kiss to Keith’s lips. “I heard you’re going on the Central Command mission. Just be patient.” 

“And we’re no way near close to executing the plans,” Keith chuffs.

The bedroom door flies open. He should be used to the lack of privacy, family and friends always bursting into rooms without an invitation. He’s about to snarl something blistering to the person wandering into the room, but he stops short when he sees Ryou. His features are pinched in confusion, brows furrowed together. He usually looks identical to Shiro with a yellow sheen to his eyes, but there is a feral demeanor to his appearance that makes it easy to tell the two apart. 

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks, eyebrows raised in question. “We were in the middle of something.”

Ryou shrugs. “I just don’t feel right.” 

Shiro takes a step forward. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?” he repeats. 

Keith crawls across the bed to stand, lifting Akira up to perch her on his hip. Concern grows in the pit of his stomach. Ryou is mostly passive-aggressive, sarcastic, and carefree; he’s usually not this nervous creature in front of them. 

“Someone’s following me,” Ryou starts, his voice only a whisper. Keith can barely make out the words.

“What?!” he sputters. “What do you mean you’re being followed?” 

“It’s exactly what I said,” Ryou murmurs, face paling under Keith’s scrutiny. “I just…I feel like someone is watching me.”

“The mole,” Shiro says suddenly, turning to look at Keith. “The one that dropped the encapsulation shield. We haven’t found them yet. Didn’t they just give Sendak a lead?”

“What?!” Keith sputters again. “You think that the mole is following Ryou? Why would they do that?”

“Why wouldn’t they do that?” Ryou remarks, spiteful and tense. He takes a deep breath, glaring down at the floor with glazed eyes. “What if they think I’m the weak link? What if they go after me first?”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Ryou,” Keith murmurs gently. “Why would they think you’re the weak link?” 

“You think that just because you’re my clone that they can go after you first,” Shiro says, tone almost chastising. “That’s not true. You’ve proved yourself. They’ll have to think twice before considering you as a target.”

Ryou’s face softens, the pinched look dissipating as he relaxes. Yet he still looks like he’s squandering for an explanation. “Then why do I keep feeling like this? I’m not paranoid. I know someone is there.”

“Keith, take Akira to see your mom,” Shiro orders. “Then make sure that Kolivan doubles security across the city.”

“We’ll have to target one of those old sentry manufacturing sites,” Keith mutters. “Make some robots that are loyal to us.”

“Have Kolivan send out a team to look into one,” Shiro replies. “I’m sure Lotor has some blueprints of a facility lying around. Ryou, you and I have to be on the Castleship. No one will follow you aboard. You’ll be safe there, brother.”

Ryou jolts at the word, but nods shakily. The twins say their good-byes—Shiro pressing a kiss to both Akira and Keith’s foreheads—before disappearing from the room. That urge, that gasping plea, is back, swarming and forcing its way forward. Keith had never seen Ryou so vulnerable before, never seen him squirm like a wilting flower.

He has barely enough energy to get Akira ready for their journey out in the cool afternoon. The quintant has barely begun.


	3. Central Command, Part One

The evening cannot come fast enough for Keith. Since Shiro and Ryou left with Team Voltron, his day had been nothing more than just meeting after meeting. Was this how Zarkon spent most of his days? Meeting with his generals and commanders. While Haggar spent her days in her laboratory, searching up newer prototypes to make sure his life was sustained. Longevity at the expense of his soul. 

If he thought about it too hard, Keith almost thinks that the life of an imperial, a royal, is boring. Diplomatic meetings, legislative business, speech writing, and orders dispatched by his mother at the oddest times. It only reaffirms his decision to get back in the field. He can’t fight a war while stationed on Gal. 

Keith had only seen his mother once after her time in her laboratory. She didn’t speak of what she had been doing. She only seemed flustered, running from her lab to Lotor’s and back again. With him finally out in the field with Zethrid and Acxa, Larka could have the run of his place. Keith knew this was some breach in Lotor’s privacy, but if he wanted Larka on board with his desire for Oriande, this was quite possibly the best way to rope her in. Giving her complete and unfettered access…even if it was without permission. 

Dinner rolls around just as the sun is setting on the Fortress and Keith helps out by preparing a Galran meal of grilled meat, steamed red grain, and a small portion of raw vegetables. Just as he and Ezor are setting the table, the double doors to the great hall swing open, revealing Solthro swathed in his robes, wearing his human face. He’s started to wear the shape-shifting mask around his children and wife, but with Pidge and Matt in the field right now, the only person he’s trying to impress is Colleen. Keith stifles a smile. 

“I was going to send a message, but I thought it would be a good idea if you heard it from me,” Sam Holt begins. “Personally.”

“Send what?” Ezor asks, a hand perched on her hip. 

The doors to the kitchen slide open, his parents carrying in meals on ornate platters and setting them down on the long table. Akira, tucked in her sling across Mick’s chest, whines and squirms, small hands reaching for Keith. 

“We weren’t expecting you, Sam,” Colleen says, placing a platter of blue and pale pink vegetables down on the table. “Ezor, can you set another place?”

Ezor rolls her eyes before heading back into the kitchen, dragging her feet all the way. 

“I was just telling Ezor and Kythel,” Sam starts again. “I wanted to come here and personally tell you some news.”

Keith pulls Akira from Mick’s sling and sits her down in his lap where she wobbles unsteadily until she grabs for the edge of the table. 

“It must be important for you to travel all this way, Solthro,” Kolivan says, sitting in between Thace and Ulaz. 

“Where is Honerva?” Sam asks. 

“Eating her meal by herself,” Larka replies, tense. “She is feeling unwell.”

“That is a pity,” Sam says, tone suggesting that he’s not buying it. But he leaves that discussion for another time. 

Before he continues, he allows everyone to settle into their seats. Ezor returns with a plate, glass, and spork for Sam. For a few moments, the only sounds are the passing of platters and pitchers of juice being poured. It’s after everyone has taken their first few bites that Sam continues. 

“One of our last science bases—Outpost Alpha—in the outer edges of Galra territory has been attacked,” Sam says. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly worried about that.”

“Attacked?” Colleen asks, murmuring the word underneath her breath.

“Attacked by who?” Krolia inquires. 

“From the footage,” Sam explains, “It was a specific livery, red and black. The new colors of the Fire of Purification.”

“Sendak,” Keith mutters. “Of course.”

“I have reason to suspect he wasn’t giving the direct orders,” Sam says.

“What do you mean?” Mick asks. 

“The colors may have been red and black, but the footage picked up two individuals on the screen that we thought weren’t Sendak’s loyalists. Trugg and Ranveig.”

“Trugg and Ranveig?”

“Ladnok’s wife?” 

“Why would the two of them be together?” Mick asks. 

“Everyone is making alliances,” Larka finally speaks. “I may be Empress, but many still deny my leadership.”

“Their opinions are irrelevant,” Krolia remarks. 

“To us, perhaps,” Thace mutters. “But to them, they think they are honoring Zarkon.”

“Or they don’t care,” Keith says, “and are doing what benefits them.”

“I am also concerned that Sendak and his loyalists will attack Earth,” Solthro says. “My people picked up a transmission by a Blade named Umaala. Apparently, she was officially stating that they had made contact with not only Lance and Hunk’s families, but with my faction as well.”

“This is the second attack within a movement,” Keith murmurs. “What if they do attack Earth? Or even Gal again?”

“Umaala made contact with you or you intercepted a message that was meant for the Blade of Marmora?” Kolivan asks darkly. 

A tension trickles into the room and Keith’s spork almost upends on Akira’s head at the tone in Kolivan’s voice. Umaala had contacted them previously, but she was supposed to _only_ make contact with the Blades. No one else. 

Solthro must understand that he encroached, but he is just as polite and helpful as usual. “It was a message between Imperial Alteans. If it’s any consolation, we too are having issues with a spy in our ranks. It may be the same spy within in yours. We did not have the problem until we had gotten involved with the coalition.”

“Or maybe they’re slowly revealing themselves,” Larka remarks. “Regardless, since it is her wife, I will have Ladnok dispatch some troops to provide protection to Outpost Alpha.”

The rest of dinner goes back to the quiet scrape of sporks against plates with Ezor cracking jokes in between or openly wondering when Zethrid and the others will be back. 

“What about Oriande?” Keith asks. “Are you going to let Lotor start searching for it?” He doesn’t know what comes over him, whether it’s his lack of sleep or his worry for the upcoming mission, but he blurts out the questions before he even has time to think. 

The spork is poised outside his mother’s lips as she scrutinizes him. She knows this has to do with her running off on him earlier. She had been bright-eyed and interested in finding out something, but she had yet to discuss it with him. 

“I’m still thinking about it,” she admits. “We’ll discuss it when we’re all together again.”

\--

“How long is this going to take?” Ezor pouts for the umpteenth time. She paces the length of the small cockpit. 

“Five more doboshes,” Keith begins the countdown, “until Krolia accesses the main security chamber.”

Ezor sighs loudly. “It’s taking too long.”

Keith gnaws on his lower lip. The siege just started a varga ago, and the two of them were still hovering in a small stealth-class cruiser waiting for the signal. Larka and Kolivan had agreed with Krolia. Blast open the southern area of the main station and claim the riches inside. But accessing Honerva’s old laboratories without her being there was the tricky part. 

Throk and Sniv had sealed the airlock from outsiders, leaving them to have to find their way through the maze of housing units. The only way to get through to that central housing sector was by a smaller airlock devoted to mail and package screenings before the materials were sent out to the commanders and their families who lived at Central Command. 

Keith tenses at the thought. How many other families like his own were getting blasted to smithereens right now? How many were being forced to submit to Kolivan and Larka or face the consequences of imprisonment? 

“What’s wrong?” Ezor asks, playful as usual. “You keep sighing. If you’re worried about Akira or Shiro, you shouldn’t be? You should worry about yourself for right now.”

Keith scowls. “It’s nothing.” Ezor had always been an unwilling thorn in his side. She has a mind of her own, one focused on the safety of Zethrid and herself. Keith trusts her, but she always stuck to her own goals. But then again…didn’t everyone do that already? 

“It’s got to be something,” Ezor pries, a brow lifted slightly. “Why don’t you share?”

“I’m worried about the mission,” Keith grouses. 

“Same,” Ezor sighs. “They put us here as backup…or until they need us. Stealing stuff that already belongs to us is so dreary.”

“We don’t know who will be guarding the housing units or the laboratories,” Keith says. 

“You saw how many people were evacuating when we got here,” Ezor murmurs. “I don’t doubt they all got up and left.” 

It was true. The moment Raht’s ships bombarded the space station with plasma fire and ion cannons, pods had flooded the underbelly of the station. They were desperate to escape before any real damage could be done.

“Then I don’t really have anything to worry about,” Keith mutters under his breath. “They should all be gone by now.”

“Kythel, Ezor, are you ready?” Kolivan’s voice comes streaming in through the communication link. “I need you at access point Three-B. It will lead to the second floor of the housing units.”

Keith lets out a sigh of relief. That was just a floor below the one he and his mother were stationed on when they were on Central Command. 

“I know the layout of that level,” he says. “It’s nearly identical to the first. High commanders and their families live there.” 

“It should be cleared by now,” Kolivan says. “But just in case, be safe.”

“We will,” Keith says, readjusting his hands on the cruiser’s controllers before piloting the ship towards the station’s northern hemisphere.

“Are you ready?”

Keith nods. _Patience yields focus,_ he thinks. 

They make it through the access point—the small airlock—where he manages to dock the cruiser.

“It’s sad that we have to leave the poor ship by itself,” Ezor says coyly. 

Keith rolls his eyes. She knows that it is one of the bombs to be used to remotely blow Central Command when the time comes. They’ll rendezvous with the others once they gather the intelligence from Honerva’s laboratories. 

“It’s strange being on here again,” Keith says as the dim purple sub-lights flicker on and off, caused by the station’s emergency protocol. It’s like a ghost ship, creaking and quiet. Zarkon’s harsh and arrogant personality doesn’t wash down the walls and stifle the air. Before, it seemed the whole space station was on edge due to the reticent behavior of its emperor. Now, it is silent, metal grinding like an old beast with missing teeth.

“I hate it here,” Ezor admits. “So many rules and regulations. Everyone has a stick stuck up their—”

Keith pushes Ezor into a shadowed alcove as gun fire reigns down on them from somewhere down the hall. 

“I know you’re there!” Someone shouts. A male voice, panicked and frantic. “Shit!” There’s a fumbling noise from down the corridor, the sound of metal hitting the floor and the desperate scrambling of talon nails against metal. 

Keith doesn’t let the soldier have the upper hand, not when he’s nervous and dropping his weaponry all over the ground. The Blade unsheathes his weapon, the dagger glowing hot and white in his hand as it activates. The light must blind the soldier because he lets out a wail as Keith runs down the hall, springing off the side of the wall and beheading him in one wide swoop. 

Slowly, Ezor peeks out from the alcove, her eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t think that there would be people here.”

“Some might be hiding out in the domicile rooms,” Keith explains. “Don’t talk unless necessary.” 

Ezor nods and they start the arduous task of clearing the second floor, room by empty room. Keith tabs open his wrist device, a map displaying in midair. 

“We have to get to the other side of the station,” Keith pauses, “from there we can take one of the elevators to my grandmother’s laboratories.”

He starts down the hall, but Ezor is already her chatty self again. 

“You ever wonder what it was like for Lotor and Larka,” she starts. “Growing up here. I mean obviously, Larka was an adult, but Lotor was just a kid, barely a teenager.”

“I try not to think about it.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Ezor sighs loudly. “You can’t say that you’ve never wondered about their past…”

“Again, I try not to think about it these days,” Keith murmurs. “The past is the past. They live under the same roof and they’re getting along now.”

“But I mean…what was it like for them to have Zarkon as their father?” Ezor asks. “You think he would have lightened up on them if he knew he had a grandson?”

“When I was here,” Keith starts. “He made me start my re-education program. History classes, sparring sessions, science labs and tests…he wanted me to pilot the Red Lion while he would pilot Black,” Keith explains. “That’s what he wanted out of me. A co-pilot, not a grandson. So, no, I don’t think that he wants me as a grandson or would have changed if he had known. I’m another asset to him.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, do you?” Ezor asks darkly.

“I think he’s alive and kicking somewhere,” Keith finally admits. 

Ezor is silent, mulling over his words. She says nothing and they continue to the lift in silence. She wordlessly hacks into the console, only to discover Krolia disabled everything after accessed the security chamber. 

They were free to begin their journey into the belly of the beast.


	4. Central Command, Part Two

There is a sour scent in the air, rancid and filled with mildew. Gone is the crisp yet stale scent that Keith associates with the recycled air of space ships and stations. It’s like the cleaning crew and Central Command’s janitorial sentry staff have seemingly gone on strike. Deep in the dank area of Honerva’s laboratories, an unclean and unsanitary aura litters the corridors and rooms. Sniv and Throk have ignored this sector of Central Command, leaving it to whatever vermin has found its way aboard the station.

It sends a chill down Keith’s spine. All of his grandmother’s work has been ignored, tossed to the side and barricaded behind thick walls and whatever chests and metal containers Throk’s crew could find. They’re pushed against the arching doorways, a jungle gym of trolleys and deactivated hovering chairs and daises.

“They really let this place go,” Ezor quips as they carefully pull apart the entrapment, leaving the remains scattered across the hall in great, messy heaps. 

Keith says nothing, only frowns at her words. Something bothers him. From the information gathered about Throk and Sniv, they have never welcomed the druids and their strange sciences that bordered on magic. And yet, not all of the druids have joined the coalition. Pidge’s father and his faction had joined. Honerva had unwillingly joined, but the faction she ruled over had seemingly disappeared. 

Keith taps at his wrist device, hurriedly opening up his communication link. 

“Kolivan,” he calls out. “Quick question. Have you had run-ins with any druids?”

It takes a while for Kolivan to get back to him, a long pause following his words. 

“No,” Kolivan finally says. “Not yet. Why? Have you?”

Keith shakes his head as if Kolivan can see him. He unsheathes his blade once more and wedges it into the crack in the doors. He scissors it in, wedging and twisting until he gets the crack wider. Ezor, will all her lithe strength, grabs hold of the two sides and yanks them apart. 

“No,” he replies. “Just curious.”

“Don’t hesitate to engage with them,” Kolivan remarks, and then the communication link goes silent. 

“I won’t,” Keith mutters to himself.

“What?” Ezor asks, squeezing herself between the crack and into the other side. 

“Nothing.” Keith shakes his head before following her through the arched threshold.

They return to a well-paired silence, continuing into the depths of the laboratory sector. It’s different than what he remembered. The lights flicker, adjusting to the new movement in the hall. Cobwebs line the corners and the walls. The air, while not rancid anymore, is mustier than usual. Dry and chilling, he almost feels his lungs shriveling in distaste. He hiccoughs and so does Ezor.

“They could have at least cleaned this place out,” Ezor bemoans, “instead of letting it get this bad.”

“Agreed,” Keith says, determined to just gather what they need and leave.

Many of the cloning facilities seem to be blocked off by brilliant, shimmering silver tape. Unused and left to rot, those clones would never see the light of day. Keith swallows, heading over to the larger of the laboratories. Ezor overrides the locking mechanism, and the doors grind open with a weary grunt of metal against metal. 

“It’s a warehouse,” Ezor whispers, as the doors reveal the entrails of the chamber. “I didn’t know this was down here.”

“Neither did I,” Keith murmurs. “We should be quick about it. Honerva couldn’t have left a lot down here.”

“What do you mean?” Ezor asks. 

“Well…” Keith trails off. “ _Her_ druids are missing. Where could they be and what did they take with them?”

“You think the went AWOL on her?” Ezor inquires. 

“I think they’re up to something and we may not find a lot.” In truth…it’s seeming that the more ticks he spends in this warehouse, the more he thinks that this is a setup. 

They search the near empty chamber. Shelves upon shelves line the walls. And yet nothing truly attracts their attention. They find a console, operational but caked with dust, in a corner. Dorma would probably be able to find anything she wanted from it without taking it apart. A jar of yellowed herbs in another corner collects dusty cobwebs. Keith ignores it in favor of scooping up some medical equipment. The science teams could find uses for all this new technical gear that Keith had never seen before. They were resources specifically crafted by Haggar’s slender hands. 

“I’ll get one of those trolleys at the door,” Ezor murmurs. “We can’t carry all of this to the rendezvous point.”

“Be careful,” Keith says over his shoulder as he continues into the bowels of the chamber. He puts down the medical equipment on an empty shelf, feet carrying him deeper and deeper into the dimly lit room. His eyebrows scrunch together as his eyes lock on a triangular rock. Keith stops in front of it, hand dipping down to pluck it from its shelving unit. It’s layered in dust like everything else. He wipes it clean, scrubbing at it with his gloves. It’s a pale, smooth stone with a glowing blue sigil emblazoned on the front. He swallows again. This is way above his pay grade.

A twisting, sharp pain encircles his neck and he drops the rock with a clack. A rancid scent percolates through the air. Keith kicks out, instinctively searching for whatever has coiled around his neck like a noose. His arms fling out, hands blindly wrapping around his neck only to find thick fingers pinching into the tender flesh of his neck, gouging at the bonding mark between his neck and shoulder. The swollen flesh pounds hotly. 

Keith lets out a gasp and the grip on his neck tightens. His assailant—whoever it is—grunts as Keith suddenly throws his weight down. The grip lessens but doesn’t give as the assailant grapples closer. Keith swings his hand back to the scabbard at the small of his back. He unsheathes his blade before sending it plunging into the assailant’s thigh. A shrill wail fills the air and Keith twists his weapon, clenching tightly. The assailant falls back into an invisible field. Ezor materializes, arms twisting around the assailant—no, _Sniv_ –twisting around his neck before a clean snap echoes in the chamber. 

Keith takes a shaky breath in, his own hand gently caressing the wrinkled flight suit fabric that covers his neck. 

“You almost died, sweet boy,” Ezor quips. 

He rolls his eyes. “I had it under control.”

“Which part?” She raises an eyebrow in question. “Before or after he started strangling you.”

“How did he get down here?” Keith asks. “You think he followed us?” His eyes rove over the Galran’s narrow frame and big ears. He could pass as Sendak’s younger brother if it wasn’t for his dark blue coloring. 

“Sniv is known for using assassins to do his bidding,” Ezor grumbles. “It’s no surprise that he’d dabble in that art.”

“That doesn’t answer any of my questions,” Keith murmurs.

Ezor shrugs before loading up the equipment onto the trolley outside the doorway of the warehouse. Keith takes a shaky breath before staring down at Sniv again, his questions going unanswered as he stares at the cooling corpse and pulls his blade free from the Galran’s thigh. His eyes are once again drawn to the rock and its sigil at his feet. Clumsily, Keith picks up the rock before pocketing it in his utility belt. 

He hurries from the chamber, idly helping Ezor load up the trolley yet something else grabs his attention. The sealed silver tape on the doorway of one of the cloning facilities is broken, pulled free from the door frame. His curiosity piqued, Keith drops one of the extra rusted portable consoles and heads to the door. His hand skims against the surface of the tape.

“Ezor!” Keith calls out. “Come look at this.” 

He hears her steady footsteps as she nears and then her arm as she swings it across his shoulders, careful of the tenderness in his neck. She’s always been overly friendly and familiar, but Keith is thankful she takes his pain into consideration. 

“What is it?”

“Looks like something, or someone, busted out of here,” Keith murmurs. 

“While we were in the warehouse?” she asks. “Welp…let’s see what’s inside.” Ezor doesn’t even need to override the locking mechanism as it appears to have been already open from the inside. The same rancid and fetid smell comes rushing and swelling back as the door opens for them, revealing a laboratory turned rathole. Reeking and sour clothing hangs from a makeshift clothing line, scuffed armor sits in a haphazard pile in the corner. Computer consoles have been set up like a command unit in the center of the small chamber. Boxes and boxes of purple, quintessence-infused food goo sit unopen. Other piles of empty goo containers are sprawled across the floor. 

“Where did he go to the bathroom?” Ezor asks, disgusted. 

Keith points to the upper deck of the laboratory where a cloning container stands with the glass cracked wide open. That isn’t the only clue to where Sniv had set up his bathroom. The foul, putrid smell radiates from that area. 

“Why did he live like this? For how long?”

“I’m starting to think that he wasn’t working with Throk the whole time,” Keith answers. “Something must have happened to make him come down here and hide.”

Ezor points over to another area of the laboratory—the control room—where a chest filled with clean clothing rests. 

“It looks like he might have been packing to leave after finding out the coalition and Empress Larka’s troops were aboard,” she says, swiveling her gaze back to the computers on the floor. 

“He must have heard us and came out of this hellhole to investigate,” Keith finishes. 

Something passes over Ezor’s face, perhaps it’s pity, but Keith doesn’t dwell on it for too long. Sniv chose to side with Throk and it didn’t work in his favor. He only has himself to blame. 

“Kythel, come in,” Thace’s voice trickles into his open frequency. “I’m checking in on you. You’re late.”

“Hey, papa,” Keith greets. “We had a run-in with Sniv. He’s been neutralized.”

There’s a pause, some quiet whispers he can’t hear as Thace talks to someone else. 

“Pull out immediately,” Thace’s stern voice remarks. “Immediately, Kythel. Grab what you have and meet us at the rendezvous point. There’s more than one.”

Keith’s eyes narrow and his brows furrow at his father’s words. _More than one._ What did that mean? He rolls his shoulders and starts off after Ezor only to stop in his tracks. _More than one._ Keith’s gaze turns to the open cloning unit and then to the closed units beside it. He looks up into the rafters of the lab, eyes circling the room. Keith runs up the short staircase to the control room, hopping over the open chest of clothing. He’s seen his mother operate these machines before and even Coran’s Old Altean lessons have helped him to at least be able to read the language. 

He quickly activates all the cloning units remotely, lights pinging on and illuminating empty containers. Only one inactivated body of Commander Sniv remains.

\--

“How many of those things does Honerva even have?” asks Ezor. 

“I don’t know,” Keith says, pushing the trolley as Ezor trails behind him.

“Why hasn’t she just divulged all these places to us already?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think that means that there are Commander Sniv’s clones all over the galaxy, too?”

“I don’t know.”

“You think the one I killed was the real one?”

“Ezor, I don’t know,” he shouts. 

She falls silent behind him. 

Keith sighs, “The only thing I know is that there is one in Thace’s custody. That’s all.” 

“You think that Commander Sniv is the mole?” she asks quietly, tentative from his outburst. 

For once, Keith can answer that. “No,” he remarks. “I doubt that. He wouldn’t be able to hide from every faction for long. He can’t possibly be hiding out on Gal and with the rest of the coalition, too.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” 

They make it to the docking rendezvous point and Keith is immediately greeted by his father as a sentry under Raht’s command takes the trolley from him. 

“Come with me,” he nods to Ezor and Kythel.

They share a look before following Thace over to another ship docked in a space. “I want the two of you on this ship and ready to leave. You did your jobs and we’re all thankful.” His gaze flickers to Keith’s purpling and sore neck. “When you get home, see Tolak before your mother sees that.”

Keith nods, thankful once more. 

“There was one clone left in its chamber,” Keith warns. “All the others were gone. Sniv seemed to be living in there for a while.”

“And we mean a _long_ while,” Ezor adds. “So long he was shitting in a cloning cubicle.”

“Thank you. Ezor,” Thace says, face flushing with mild embarrassment. 

“Any time, sir,” she says before walking towards the docked vessel. 

“Where’s Krolia?” Keith asks. 

“Finishing some stuff up with Kolivan,” Thace answers. “Your mother left a varga ago to oversee the new shipment of sentry units. After we arrested Throk and _Sniv_.” 

Keith nods again. 

“I’ll send someone down to the laboratories to get the body before we leave,” Thace says. “We’ll find out who the real Sniv is.” 

“Hopefully,” Keith replies, but for some reason he can’t see the rainbow at the end of this disaster of a revelation.

Later, aboard the extraction vessel, he stands by Ezor’s side on the observation deck as the coalition ships exit the quadrant, farther and farther away from the yellow blaze of Central Command.

\-- 

Larka’s laboratory is hot and humid as Krolia walks in flanked by Thace and Mick. It’s one thing to have the heated flooring turned up to some Ancient forsaken temperature, but to have the humidity level set to hair curling thickness is ridiculous. Krolia’s eyes narrow at the sight before her. Honerva is by Larka's side, peering into a microscope, examining something that puts a small smile on Larka’s face. 

_Ancients, why does she have to smile at something the witch does?_ Krolia thinks. But she knows how invested Larka is in having some relationship with her mother, no matter the cost. Krolia hates that Honerva is exploiting that factor. 

“What did I tell you about locking yourself up in here?” Krolia asks. _With her?_ she wants to add, but she keep the question open-ended. 

Mick stiffens by her left, instinctively knowing where she’s going with this. 

“Krolia,” he murmurs, warning. 

Thace only noncommittally shakes his head. 

Larka, stiffening, turns to face them. “You’re back. Good,” she says. “The sentries have been dispensed. Mother and I were just going over the supply line.” 

Krolia doubts that with how Larka hastily pushes the microscope across the table. 

“I will take my leave,” Honerva says, quietly disappearing from the room before Larka or any of them can respond. 

Larka lets out a loud sigh. “Do you have to be like that?” 

Krolia crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes.” 

“Krolia,” Mick warns again. 

“You should lock her up in isolation,” Thace says. 

“Thank you,” Krolia muses aloud. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” 

“What are you talking about?” Larka asks. 

“She needs to be watched more closely,” Mick drawls. “She may be under house arrest, but she’s not to be trusted. You have to understand that, Larka.” 

The Empress lets out a sigh, as if she understands what they’re trying to say. Nevertheless, she stares down at the microscope like a scolded child. 

“Central Command is destroyed, Larka,” Thace murmurs. “But we may have a problem.” 

“That problem will have to wait,” Larka says. “I’ve decided to grant Lotor his project. He can search for Oriande if he’d like. With a team that I handpick.” 

“What? Are you serious?” Krolia deadpans. “Just because you’re selecting the people to put on this mission, doesn’t make it right.” 

“If we don’t do this, somewhere along the road, Lotor will figure out how to do it himself,” Larka explains. “This way we can control how far he takes this project. We retain his focus on the pipeline and none of his side projects with his space ships, the secondary comet, or the quintessence field.”

“So, we’re just gonna play along with Honerva’s desires now?” Mick asks. 

“Whatever gives us the most control,” Larka murmurs. “I can keep an eye on Lotor and Honerva if I handpick who goes on this mission.” 

“Who?” Krolia asks. 

“What?” 

“Who are you handpicking?” 

“Solthro and a few others on Team Voltron,” Larka says as the door slides open and Keith reveals himself. 

“You’re sending Team Voltron with them?!” 

Larka sighs loudly, rubbing at her temples. 

“Sorry,” Keith says, folding his own arms across his chest. “I was coming here to tell you that Acxa, Lotor, and Zethrid are back, but I find you making plans in private.” 

“Weren’t you the one who said to let Lotor do this?” Larka chuffs. 

“Yeah!” Keith says, resigned. “But just Lotor! I didn’t say to make it some mission with Blades and Team Voltron at the helm. Let him sacrifice himself to some mystical lion god if he wants to.” 

“My word is final,” Larka says, tersely. “The Imperial Alteans will handle helping Lotor. Honerva will accompany him. If my hypothesis is correct, it may be able to restore them to the rightful frame of minds. But we won’t know unless we try.” 

Keith shakes his head in disagreement but says nothing. Krolia can’t help but understand where the poor boy is coming from. 

“What are we going to do about the clones?” Keith asks. 

“What clones?” Larka inquires. 

“You didn’t even tell her?” Keith turns to Thace. 

“I still have to report to the Record…and to Kolivan,” his father says. “But—” 

“There are more clones?” Krolia and Mick ask in unison. 

“ _Sniv_ ,” Thace starts pithily, “has clones of himself. Ask your mother about that, Larka. I’m going to have Dorma test the deceased one to see if it’s the original. The living one has been arrested with Throk.” 

“Did you destroy the others?” Larka asks. 

“There was one left,” Keith replies. “And it’s been blown up with the rest of Central Command.” 

Larka rubs at her temples again. 

“What about the quantum abyss?” asks Krolia. 

“What about it?” Larka asks crossly. 

“You aren’t allowed to cross into the quantum abyss with a pipeline,” Krolia explains. “It’s Galra law. Especially not with unstable quintessence. So why is QA residue on Galra ships, specifically with Ranveig’s nonsense he cooked up.” 

“What are you saying, Krolia?” Mick asks. 

“If Lotor gets to go search for Oriande,” she pauses. “I want to find out why Ranveig was so interested in Solthro’s research. He was so willing to steal weapon-grade quintessence from Janka and his previous supply line. Why is that?”

“You want your own mission?” Larka inquires. 

“While you’re sending your brother off to who knows where, send me to find out what Ranveig and the Fire of Purification are so eagerly doing with things that don’t belong to them. We have to act as if Sendak is overseeing all of this,” Krolia explains. “He is our current enemy.”

Larka’s gaze flickers across Krolia’s beseeching face before looking at her son who nods. 

“Fine,” Larka says, taking a deep breath. “But I’m going with you.” 


	5. A Fork in the Road

The bright ceiling lights of the Castle of Lions wash across the white flooring and walls, cascading a liveliness that Keith has sorely missed. The first person to greet him with a fierce hug is Pidge and it has him grinning ear to ear. Hunk and Lance leap on to their puppy pile, followed by a smiling Allura. Keith’s eyebrows lift in question when he doesn’t spot Shiro or Ryou. 

“They’re with Coran,” Lance answers after Keith asks about their whereabouts. “Talking. All the time.”

Keith’s eyebrows lift even higher, but he says nothing. Being with his friends again, his first homemade family, gives him a sense of tranquility, a calming effect that sets him at ease after a long term of stagnation. 

“Where is Akira?” Allura asks, excited as she leads their group to the opulent lounge aboard the Castleship. 

“With my mother,” Keith says. “She promised to take care of her for the evening…which leads me to something else.”

The doors to the lounge swipe open and they all settle down on the couches. Lance leans forward, placing his arms on the table that they all surround. 

“Holy crow…what happened now?” he asks. 

Keith sighs. “She wants to see Allura and Pidge. It’s about a special mission.”

“A special mission?” Pidge asks. “What kind of special mission?”

“Just Allura and Pidge?” Hunk asks. “We can’t come along too?”

“I’m sure that you’re going to be tagging along with them,” Keith says. “Shiro will want to come along. I know he will.”

“Why are you talking like you’re not going to come too?” Lance asks. 

“Because I won’t,” Keith says, terse. “I’ll probably be assigned to a different mission.”

“And what’s this _special mission_?” Pidge repeats, her face serious and stony.

Pidge has always had a way of cutting through the fluff, determined to figure out what was truly going on. 

“Oriande,” he answers simply. “She wants the two of you to accompany Lotor and Honerva to Oriande. Or at least search for it. Larka is getting together with your dad to form a druid team.”

“Oriande?” Pidge’s face twists as if she has tasted something sour. “A fictional place? A place we’re not even sure exists.”

“Lotor insists that it exists,” Keith remarks. “You’ll be with Solthro and his group. You’ll be safe going—”

“That’s not what she’s worried about,” Lance interrupts sternly. “We’re just going to be doing Lotor’s dirty work?”

“And Haggar’s gonna be there?” Hunk adds.

Keith lets out a deep sigh. “I know. I’m not really agreeing with this either. I think that he should have done this on his own, but she’s going to ask you to accompany him. My mother thinks that it may even heal the corrupted Alteans. She wants to take this chance.”

The lounge is quiet for a moment before Allura perks up. 

“She won’t be coming along? Larka, I mean…” she asks. 

“Unlikely,” Keith murmurs. “She’s going on a mission with Krolia. Everyone will be busy.”

“And I’m assuming, you’ll be on that mission too?” Allura asks, cocking her head to the side. 

Keith nods tightly. “I’m hoping to be on it. But as of right now, it will only be Krolia and Larka.” 

The door slides open revealing Coran flanked by Shiro and Ryou. “What will the space mamas only be doing?” Ryou asks with his hands fidgeting at his sides.

Keith rolls his eyes. “They’re taking on a personal mission. I don’t know a lot about it.”

“You did good work on the Central Command assignment,” Shiro says. “I’m sure you’d be a capable asset if you accompany them.”

Happiness fills his gut. He had half-expected Shiro to object to this mission, even though it wasn’t set in stone. Instead, a smile plays at Shiro’s lips. There’s a flush to his cheeks as he speaks, continuing on with his conversation. His square jaw is clenched despite all this, tense and ready for action and Keith feels his stomach flutter. How can he still have butterflies, even now? 

“…Keith? Keith?” Lance murmurs. “Where are you, man?” 

The Blade shakes his head, clearing his mind of his playful thoughts. 

“What?” 

“The mole? Did you all find out anything?” Hunk asks. 

Keith blushes, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, clearing his throat. “We may have found something, but I’m not really sure it’s the answer we're looking for. Apparently Sniv was being cloned. His chamber was completely empty, save for two active ones aboard Central Command and one still in a sleep pod.” 

“Honerva really was focused on this cloning project,” Allura murmurs. 

“She hasn’t spoken about it yet,” Keith remarks, brows furrowing. “Or maybe Kolivan and my mother are keeping it from her…that they found out, that _we_ found out.”

“Are they interrogating the clone?” Shiro asks. 

“Yeah,” Keith answers. “They are testing him to see if he’s the original Sniv, too.” 

“We should question Honerva on her cloning project,” Coran says matter-of-factly. “We need to know if there are anymore. Those clones who aren’t involved with Solthro’s cloning laboratories on Earth.” 

\--

The following movement is filled with a flurry of activity. The nearest Astral Conflux passes with festivities upon Gal and great, elaborate speeches made by Larka and Allura on camaraderie and the will to move on from the tyrannical past. Crowds roar and people feast, and Keith feels some sort of normalcy return after the mission on Central Command. At the week’s end, Larka leaves for a long trip to Olkarion. Without his mom’s help, he struggles with Akira but he finally gets the hang of it especially with the rest of his family still on Gal. Shiro, his fathers, and Krolia, Acxa, the Blades and the paladins. 

“Are you sure you want to surprise her?” Shiro asks, piling some clothing into a flight bag. 

“I’m not surprising her,” says Keith. “I’m sure Papa already called her.” 

“You sure you can handle Akira by yourself?” 

“I have my blade and I have my baby,” Keith murmurs. “I’m all set.”

Shiro chuckles, stuffing the last of Akira’s baby clothing into the bag. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“I try.” Keith smiles. 

Shiro takes Keith and Akira to Olkarion with the Black Lion, Akira babbling the whole time as she sits on Shiro’s lap. He drops them off near one of the pyramids after helping seat Akira in the baby carrier and giving them chaste kisses. Keith, however, is almost mildly irritated with how much attention they gather; his daughter attracts it wherever they go. After being stopped nearly twenty times by various aliens wanting a glimpse at Princess Akira, Keith finally makes it inside the giant pyramid that masquerades as one of the various science buildings. 

“Kythel!” Dorma calls out to him, rushing after him. “I didn’t know you were supposed to be visiting.”

“I wanted to stop by and see Mama,” Keith admits. “I thought I would bring Akira along.”

Dorma chuffs lightly, affectionately swiping a thumb across one of Akira’s pudgy cheeks. 

“Well, she’s getting out of a meeting right now,” Dorma says, pointing down the length of the corridor. 

They part ways and just as Keith steps close to the door, it swipes open and a congested crowd of people stream through, brushing past him and smiling at the baby. Keith sighs, spotting his mother looking out one of the many floor-to-ceiling glass windows, down into the workshop valley below.

“Empress Larka,” Keith teases. “Are you busy?”

Larka turns around, worried expression disappearing at the sight of her son and granddaughter. Her lavender face brightens.

“Not anymore,” Larka replies. “I should be free for the rest of the quintant.” 

“How did the meetings go?”

“Well,” Larka says, coming over to pluck Akira out of the baby carrier. The cub’s hands immediately search out Larka’s braid, threading her tiny fingers between the thick strands. “Thankfully. I’ve met with Solthro and Ryner. I just finished up with Slav’s team of engineers to hear how they were doing. Krolia had visited when I met with Solthro, but she’s disappeared with Acxa.”

“You should have mentioned that you all were coming here,” Keith murmurs. “Dad and Papa disappeared in meetings all day too.”

Larka sways Akira in her arms, eyebrows furrowing. “You need time with Akira. We shouldn’t hover around you too often. This time is sacred, Kythel. You know how important this is. If I could have done this with you—”

“—you would have,” Keith interrupts. “Yes, yes. I know.” 

Larka looks at him, tight-lipped. “I’m serious, son. This is an important time between you and Akira. You should get enough time in before—” 

“What did you discuss at the other meetings?” He interrupts again.

“I’ve officially named Lotor my imperial adviser,” Larka sighs, turning out the window to show Akira the valley, the rolling hills, and the vast forests and mountain chains in the great distance. The orange sunset casts a soft glow against their faces.

Keith chuffs, walking closer until he is side-by-side with his mother. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she admits. “At this rate, he and the Oriande team may return before Krolia and I do. In that case, I want him to take over as Emperor Pro Tem until I return.”

Something stirs in his gut, something between annoyance and disbelief. 

“I could take over,” he remarks. 

Larka, startled, turns to face him. “What?”

“I could take over in your absence,” he repeats. “I’m—”

“No, you won’t,” Krolia says, striding in with Acxa. 

“What? Why?”

“Because you and Acxa are coming with us,” Krolia admits, arms crossed over her chest. She looks over at Larka pointedly, face softening when she catches a glimpse of Akira. “Did you even tell him?”

“No,” Larka says, terse. “I was getting to that point before you so rudely interrupted.”

“We’re taking you and Acxa on this undercover mission to the Quantum Abyss,” Krolia explains, shrugging. “Only a few of the Blades know and…Team Voltron. Regardless, I want to keep this top secret.”

“How is Kolivan?” Larka asks.

Krolia nonchalantly waves her hand. “He doesn’t agree. Obviously. You just became Empress and he doesn’t want you disappearing somewhere unknown. Not when we’re gaining momentum, but…”

“But…?” Keith trails off. 

“But Ranveig has created a man-made superweapon,” she pauses for effect. “He created and built it under the premise of using corrupted quintessence. It’s highly volatile and unstable. The question is: why?”

“And we’re doing this even while Sendak is attacking our colonies?” Acxa asks. 

“It is imperative that we find out what our other enemies are up to, specifically Ranveig,” Krolia clarifies. “It is important that we have clean synthetic quintessence, without corruption.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. There’s some hesitation in Krolia’s voice, like she wants to expand on her theory, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask.

“Raw quintessence is naturally unstable,” Larka adds, nodding. “It’s easily corruptible.”

Krolia nods back. “And I have a suspicion that once we find out about the Quantum Abyss, we’ll find out about Lotor’s plans for the pipeline.”


	6. Under Lock and Key

A chilly cold front trickles through the air despite the harsh humidity upon Gal. A hesitation within the Fortress makes Keith’s hackles rise in defense. Between the coming missions and the unknown gaps in between, Keith is nervous. Anxiety percolates through that chilly air, leaving the grass frosted with lies and devious omissions. 

He knows it is the witch, his grandmother. She’s putting everyone on edge. Krolia seethes. Larka has rebuilt a frosty, detached wall against everyone else. And Keith is stuck in the middle. His only question remains: _why can’t they lock up Honerva?_ Despite his mother’s resolute wishes, she’s putting everyone at risk. And Honerva knows it. 

Her tangled web has caused Lotor and Larka to think outside the box of reason. Lotor’s dreams have to be some void magic ensnaring most of his senses. And Larka’s own sense has all but left. This isn’t the mother he knows. And as Acxa had said, it isn’t the Lotor she had grown to know. 

_Honerva, Honerva, Honerva. She is the cause,_ Keith thinks. She has become some quasi-guiding light to the two siblings and they can’t see the forest for the trees. 

He continues down the hall, heading in the direction of the kitchen. With Mick handling the baby, he’ll take this comforting reprieve before someone else draws his attention. He reaches the kitchen’s side door. But just as he’s about to swipe himself in, he hears the raised voice of Kolivan and a subtle chuff of derision coming from someone else. 

He shouldn’t eavesdrop, but…he presses himself closer to the wall without setting off the automatic sliding door.

“I’m just asking you to reconsider,” Kolivan says, exasperated. 

“No,” Larka remarks, nails tapping rhythmically against the kitchen counter. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to brush this mission off,” Kolivan continues. “You could sit this one out. Both you and Kythel.”

“Dorma can take your place,” Thace adds flatly. “We can send in one of the new recruits to take Kythel’s place as well. Ezor can take on this mission. She’s qualified.”

“So is our son,” Larka says brusquely. “He’s ready. No matter how long we keep him here, he’ll figure out a way to get on a ship and help in this war. You do remember when he took that impromptu mission with Lotor. Ezor's cover was blown and Sendak—”

Keith stiffens at her sharp tone but jumps at the sound of Thace’s voice rising. 

“It doesn’t matter!” 

“Of course it matters!”

“Calm down,” Kolivan orders. “The both of you. I could easily put Dorma and Ezor on this mission instead of the two of you. In fact, I’m in the right state of mind to remove all four of you from this mission and reassign agents. This is too much of a risk. You and Krolia going with the children could put the entire line of succession at risk. You and Kythel? Krolia, your third-in-command? Acxa?! You all could die.”

“Knowledge or death, Kolivan.” Larka says dryly. 

“And leave the empire in Lotor’s hands?” Kolivan asks. “You jest. He’s ill prepared, not ready for the simplest of tasks. The boy can barely plot out his own insurgencies. His own generals don’t know what he’s planning half the time. You’re even sending him on some mission based upon Altean folklore. This is the whole line of succession we’re talking about.”

“Akira is here. She’ll be safe.” 

“Larka,” Thace whispers, frustrated. _No._ He sounds downright infuriated. But Keith can’t help but agree with his mother’s cruel and harsh words. His first intentions were to bring down the Galra Empire, but now they have a chance to put a stop to the true oppressors. He’ll take this chance, so Akira has a better future.

“I’m trying to express my worry, Larka,” Kolivan says after a breath of quiet resolve. “You all are taking an extensive trip while Sendak tests our borders. Ranveig can wait.”

“You sound like Acxa,” Larka murmurs. 

“Good,” Kolivan remarks. “Maybe you’d see reason and purpose if we all spoke like the girl.” 

“So, we just wait until Ranveig attacks us too, or we find out what he’s planning now.” Larka’s words sound final and Keith carefully pulls himself away from the kitchen side door. 

_Now doesn’t seem like the time to get a snack,_ he grimaces, choosing to head back to the nursery instead. Part of him wants to listen to what the three of them are talking about. How long would Kolivan hold out for? Until they’re about to board a ship? Curiosity nips at Keith’s heels. What did Kolivan think about Krolia and Acxa joining the mission? It already seemed like he didn’t want any of his Blades going on some assignment to the unknown—

Keith grits his teeth, takes a huge leap back, and presses himself against the wall. A soft chattering has him peering around the corner before plastering himself back against the wall again.

There, tucked against a dark, fortress alcove with her back to him is Honerva. Her long, white hair shadows her facial features, but he can hear her voice. A stoic contralto, grating and dancing through the air. He can barely hear what she’s talking about, but when Keith peers around the corner again, he discovers she’s talking to…no one. 

Keith’s hands coil into tight fists, fingernails pinching the calloused skin of his palms. He hasn’t gained her attention, but she continues to talk to herself, a long clawed hand anxiously scrapping through her hair. 

“Fine, fine, just wait,” she murmurs, loud enough that he thinks that maybe she knows he’s there and she’s leading him on. 

Honerva straightens up her back and then begins walking down the corridor, her druid robes whispering across the floor and billowing out as she rushes. Regaining his determination, Keith slinks down the hall, sticking to shadowy nooks and peering around angled corners to catch glimpses of Honerva.

“Where the hell are you going?” he whispers to himself. 

She leads him down twisty corridors and large, vaulted hallways. She doesn’t hesitate, moving as if she owns the whole Fortress, not like she must answer to her daughter. Keith narrows his eyes, watching closely as she nears a set of double doors, throws them open with a wave of her hand and walks in. The doors close behind her. 

“Her private chambers,” he says softly. “She’s either going mad or pretending.” 

A sharp creak startles him. Turning around, his eyes search out for—

His blood runs cold again, his hands growing clammy. Walking past the hall and turning around another corner—the same one that leads back the way he came—is a black and orange tail. 

\--

He imagined it. Surely he did.

Keith’s hands shake as they search out what he’s buried deep in his chest of drawers. His hand finds it, the cool, triangular artifact with the glowing sigil emblazoned on the front. His heart thuds wildly in his chest. He swallows, his throat dry. 

His transponder beeps on the side table, drawing his attention. Tucking the artifact into his jacket pocket, Keith rushes over to answer the chirping communicator. 

“What is it?” he says, toggling open the audio.

“I need you in the Castleship.”

“Hello to you too, Lotor.”

“I’m serious,” Lotor murmurs. “I’m gathering the paladins as we speak. Please.”

He’s begging again, hopeful and deliberate. Keith sighs. 

“I’ll be there in a few,” he says, automatically patting at the artifact through the fabric of his jacket. He can’t give this to him. He’s not ready for this type of responsibility, despite the fact that he may know what to do with it.

“Good, see you there.” Lotor signs off. 

Keith drops the transponder on the bed, chuffing loudly before flopping beside it. What else could go wrong? 

\--

“You want us to go with you, yet you don’t know where we’re going,” Lance argues. “You don’t think that’s a problem?”

“Not particularly,” Lotor says. “I’m asking you to trust me.”

Lance mumbles something under his breath, turning away. 

“I’ve got to agree with Lance,” Hunk starts. “This is a big thing. We’re looking for something you haven’t fully figured out yet. We have no concrete evidence that it even exists.”

“Allura and—” 

“Lotor, just because Allura and Pidge agreed to this doesn’t mean the rest of us must do the same,” Shiro interrupts. “You have to understand. We would be leaving the universe in the hands of the coalition. We won’t be able to fight if we’re escorting you to some—”

“To some Bermuda Triangle in space,” Ryou finishes.

Keith stands in the lounge, leaning against the far wall, watching as the group argues with Lotor. 

“I know you may not be enthralled with my request for Team Voltron to aid me, but the possibilities for advancement are numerous. We can all benefit from this excursion.”

The room falls silent just before Pidge pipes up with her arms crossed over her chest. “I agree with Lotor.”

“What?” Lance warbles. 

“Pidge, think this through,” Hunk sighs.

“I have,” she admits. “And the pros outweigh the cons. We can’t just keep doing tours of different planets we’ve saved and work with. It’s time we move on to something bigger than that. This will help us in the long run. Think about it, Hunk. We could fuse Galra and Altean technology with ours! Galtean tech at our fingertips! No more mysticism! We could bring it to Earth!”

Keith bites his lower lip, the artifact humming warmly in his pocket.

“Guys,” she adds, “this could help my dad. They could work with quintessence without the corrupting side effects.” 

Again the room falls silent. 

“You have every intention with continuing with your own quintessence pipeline, right?” Allura asks, accusation clear in her tone.

“What do you mean?” Lotor asks, eyebrows rising. 

“I agree with Pidge…and I agree with you,” Allura admits. “But I need to know the truth. What aren’t you telling Larka?”

Lotor’s cheeks flush before his facial expression smooths out. “Yes, I want to use my sister’s synthetic quintessence for my own projects. Yes, I’m focused on the pipeline. And perhaps I am still interested in utilizing the rift, but that is why the secrets of Oriande are so important.”

Allura curls her hands, positively fuming. “You haven’t changed, have you? Why can’t you just tell us these things instead of relying on your dreams to guide you?”

“You would have listened if I told you about my plans for the rift and the alternate realities?” Lotor asks stoically.

The Altean Queen struggles with her words. “W-we could have worked it out. You’re keeping this from Larka.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Does Honerva know your plans? Did she want this?”

“Are you asking if she coerced me?” Lotor counters. “Absolutely not.”

“You are ridiculous,” Ryou mumbles. 

“I’m still siding with Lotor,” Pidge reminds. “He’s being—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Pidge,” Lance grouses.

Keith’s gaze locks on a silent Hunk before shifting to Allura, who stares right back at him. She lets out a loud sigh before hurrying out of the lounge. 

“Where is she going?” Ryou asks. 

“I’ll go with her,” Lance says, following his girlfriend but not before glaring at Lotor. 

When the doors slide shut, Shiro lets out a deep sigh, the lines on his forehead deepening. “What else aren’t you telling us?”

“I’m designing ships that can be used to travel through those pockets of space between realities,” Lotor admits after a pause.

“With the second comet?” Shiro clarifies. 

“Yes.”

Another deep sigh. 

The black paladin turns to Keith. “When does your team leave?”

“Soon,” Keith answers. “After you leave with Lotor for Oriande.”

“And what do you think about this?” Shiro asks. 

“I trust him,” Keith admits. “As long as he doesn’t keep things from us. No more.”

“I promise,” Lotor says softly. 

Keith scrutinizes him. “Don’t go telling my mother about your plans for the other realities. She won’t be interested in that. We’ll keep that to ourselves for now. She has enough to worry about.”

“What about Allura?” Hunk asks.

“She’s probably going to cool down,” Shiro says. “Lance is with her. She’ll be fine.”

With Keith’s blessing, the team disperses. Shiro and Ryou to meet with Coran, Hunk to hurry to the laboratory aboard the ship. Pidge is about to follow him when Keith grabs her. 

“I wanted to talk to you in private,” Keith says. 

“Go on without me,” Pidge says to Hunk, who watches them coolly. “I’ll meet up with you.”

Hunk waves at them before hurrying out of the lounge.

“What’s up?” Pidge asks. 

Keith digs into his jacket’s pocket and plucks out the artifact. “I found this on my mission to Central Command while Ezor and I were in Honerva’s lab. I don’t know what it does, but I thought that you could use it. I’m sure you’ll figure it out with Hunk’s help.”

Pidge eyes the stone, pulling it out of Keith’s grip. “It looks like Altean tech…or a piece of something. Why me?”

Keith sighs. “I trust Lotor. He’s telling us the truth, even if he is…secretive. But I don’t trust him with this. And with the mission my mother is going on, she won’t have the time for some Altean sorcery.”

Pidge stifles a laugh, heartily slapping him on the back. “I’ll look into it, Prince Kythel.”

~~

Allura rushes down the corridors of the Fortress. A cool sweat tickles at her forehead. Honerva is not to be trusted and although the proof isn’t as concrete as she had hoped it would be, it is reasonable to consider that Honerva has been threading her will into Lotor’s psyche. Who else would have the power to make him see visions of something of that magnitude? An apparition leading him to mysterious deep space.

She angrily slaps her hand down on the identification pad and waits for the doors to swing open. Honerva sits at one of her work tables, furiously tabbing through multiple datapads. This is what Allura has feared. This new-found freedom, walking through the Fortress corridors without an overseer, has allowed Honerva to grow bold. 

Not today. 

“You’re not going with us!” Allura shouts hastily. 

Honerva ignores her, peering down at one of the screens before sitting straight. She continues to swipe through another document before lazily gazing over at Allura. 

“I would think you would understand the importance of this trip,” Honerva says, leaning back in her seat to appraise her. “What is the problem now?” 

“You’re not going with us,” Allura repeats, seething. 

Honerva’s eyes narrow. 

“I wanted to talk with you calmly, but I’ve realized that you should have never of left your cell below,” Allura continues. “If anything, you should have been shoved to the farthest tundra in your own personal prison. What you’re doing is not—”

Allura can barely get out her next word as she feels the thick coil of black, pungent miasma encircling her neck. Thin fingers grip around her, putting pressure on her throat as she struggles to take a step back from the lithe figure in front of her. Her feet won’t move, glued to the ground and frozen in place. She can’t even see. Everything is black with glowing yellow spots. She lets a gasp out as the smoky void tightens, pulling her neck back as she tries to speak. 

“I have my plans, just as you have your own, just as everyone has their own missions,” Honerva hisses darkly. “I won’t allow you to stop me from discovering what I’ve been searching for my entire life, little girl. You may have _her_ empathy and love but—”

The whirring of a rifle causes Honerva to pause. The black smoke dissipates. Allura twists against Honerva’s grip only to see the witch closer than what she was before. She had gotten out of her chair, approached her all while suffocating her. Honerva’s fingers loosen around Allura’s neck. 

“Take a step back, Haggar,” Lance orders, unwavering. "Pidge, Hunk, I need backup."

Allura lets out a breath of relief. She had frozen, unable to pull her own swirl of magic to her defense. What was it about Honerva that scared her so much? Was it that she was a twisted version of her father or was it something else? The possibility that she could become like Honerva if she was lured into a seductive rift?

“You’re done, witch,” Lance states. “Allura, are you okay?” The gun is focused on Honerva’s head as he inches forward to put space in between the two Alteans. 

“Yeah,” she says, gasping for air. “I am now.”

~~

Keith and Shiro rush down the hallway, towards the throne room. Four guards are stationed at the door, twice as many as usual. The doors slide open and they enter the opulent, sprawling chamber with its raised ceiling and elevated dais. His mother sits there, surrounded by others. Guards cover every inch of the room, hands gripping tight to their weapons. Lance and Allura are the farthest from the throne, speaking in hushed tones.

“What happened?” Shiro calls out as they near them. 

Lance eyes narrow. “The witch attacked Allura. I told you this was a bad idea.”

Keith’s eyebrows raise. “What do you mean she attacked?”

“I went to tell her that she wasn’t going on the mission with us,” Allura starts. “The next thing I know she was trying to choke me.”

Keith’s eyes zero in on the bruise purpling around Allura’s neck. 

“What are you going to do about this?” Keith asks, looking over to his mother who sits there, a hand raking through her violet hair. 

“You’re going to arrest her obviously,” Krolia says, gaze tense. “Right, Larka?”

“Yes,” she says. There’s a breathlessness in her voice, like she doesn’t want to admit that her mother just tried to kill one of her loved ones. Whatever tension was in the hall has disappeared with her declaration. 

“Thank you,” Allura murmurs. 

Larka nods tightly. 

“Earlier, I caught her talking to herself,” Keith blurts out. “Well, I thought she was and then I saw this cat tail. I thought it was my imagination, but the more I think about it. The more I believe it was Kova.”

“What?” Larka asks icily. “You’re telling me you believe Kova is in the castle.”

“But that would mean…” Lance starts. 

“Narti,” Acxa grimaces. “It’s Narti.”

Larka nervously rakes her hand through her hair again. “Find her,” she says to a few guards by her sides. 

“I’ll go too,” Thace remarks before leaving with the guards.

“What about the missions?” Allura asks. 

“Everything is to resume as planned. This doesn’t change anything. If—when I return, I’ll deal with Honerva myself,” Larka remarks. She pauses, looking over at Allura, trying to apologize with her solemn facial expression alone. “I promise. I’ll fix this.”

Allura nods. “I trust you.”

\--

The next morning, Keith finds himself at the landing pad, Akira slumbering in his arms. 

“You’ll be okay?” Shiro asks. 

“Yes,” Keith answers. 

“And you’re sure Mick can handle Akira for this long?”

“Dad raised me,” Keith says. “I’m sure he can handle a wriggling little girl too.”

Shiro smiles, pressing a soft kiss to Akira’s forehead.

“Patience yields focus, Keith,” Shiro recites. “You’ll figure out what’s going on with Ranveig and the others.”

“And you’ll figure out how to get to Oriande and hopefully cure the Alteans,” Keith says. “And…just keep your eyes on Lotor. Please. For my mother.”

Shiro nods. “Always.”

Keith watches solemnly as the Castleship takes off and disappears into the light blue sky above. The crunch of gravel behind him startles him out of his short reverie. 

“Mom sent me to look for you,” Acxa says. 

“Did they find her yet?” Keith asks. 

“Not yet, but Thace is leading the investigation,” she murmurs. “I’m sure they’ll find her.”

“Why would she drop the encapsulation shield?” Keith asks. “What would she do that for?”

“If Honerva ordered her to do it, she would have done it,” Acxa explains. “For what purpose? Maybe it was to corral us into a corner, force us to work with people that we would normally never have worked with.”

“All to further Honerva’s agenda,” Keith chuffs. “She practically warned us when she appeared as that ambassador guy.” 

“She uses people for her own gain,” Acxa says. “We all knew that. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Larka’s doing that enough as it is.” She plucks Akira out of Keith’s arms, careful not to wake her. “I can’t wait to train her.”

“Who said you were going to train her?” He asks, turning around to head back to the Fortress, Acxa and Akira following him.

“Uh, I’m her aunt,” Acxa grins. “Of course I’m going to be the one who trains her.”

The walk back to the Fortress is quiet. Halfway through, a light drizzle starts raining down. It’s an ominous harbinger for the mission that has barely begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new chapter next week!


	7. The Encrypted Message

Outside the front window, the astronomical reaches are painted a dark black. Ancient swirls of navy and red bleed into the background. Coiling nebulae, foreign unstable stars, bright planets awash with turbulent seas. Keith has forgotten how frightening deep space can be. 

“We’re being hailed,” Acxa murmurs from the small communication console and its equally small deck. 

“From?” Keith asks, hands tightening on the ship’s controllers. 

“Looks like the Balmera,” Acxa answers. “We’re in their system, in their outer space.”

“Call up Larka and Krolia,” Keith says, turning the ship to realign with the distant planet. 

“I can answer it myself,” Acxa chuffs haughtily.

Keith smirks, “Then answer it.”

He hears another loud chuff and the dials being tapped on the console as Acxa opens the frequency. 

“This is a Marmora vessel of the Voltron Alliance,” Acxa announces. “What do you need?”

Keith scoffs at her frankness. 

“Marmora vessel, this is Rax of the Balmera,” says a familiar voice. Shay’s brother in charge of communication on the Balmera. “We were going to radio your headquarters, but it is a good thing we saw you.”

There’s a static pause. 

“We have got something you may want,” says Rax. “Something I found.”

\--

It’s been a long time since Keith had set foot on the Balmera. It’s still the glistening marble, still growing with all the refugees and Balmeran families. After landing on a runway marked outside the main village, they are greeted by a smiling Shay. She wears a fresh tunic dress, the color of a dark emeralds and embroidered by gold thread. The necklace gifted to her by Hunk rests against her chest, gleaming beneath the warm afternoon sun.

“Welcome!” Shay calls out cheerfully as they approach after locking down the ship. 

Keith waves a hand. “Hey, Shay!” 

Her thick arms embrace him in a hug before she goes from Acxa to Krolia and then finally to Larka. 

“Welcome!” She says again. “We were not expecting you.”

“Rax reached out to us,” Keith recalls. “We were flying by and he hailed us.”

Shay is silently, turning around to face the direction of the communication yurt. “Oh,” she murmurs. “He did not mention anything to me.”

“It was only a few moments ago,” Larka pipes up.

“Ah,” Shay murmurs, inclining her head. “I only wished Rax shared things with me right away. Follow me.”

The four of them follow Shay through a throng of gathering people, and then down a wide street doubling as a bazaar. Civilians hawk their wares at passing refugees. The smell of street food makes Keith’s mouth water. He has half the mind to stop somewhere and purchase something, but they’re on a mission and stopping on the Balmera is just a short delay for now. 

Shay leads them down another open side street, chatting about her last talks with Hunk and their vacation to a settled colony serving fusion cuisine from different planets. They had eaten until their bellies were full and ripe. She mentions the Oriande mission in passing and how Hunk had shared that bit of information with her, but from her dark tone Keith determines that she is not happy with these turn of events. 

With an overwhelming sense of wonder, Keith realizes how much Shay has matured. Before she had been a young girl, frightened and kind but determined to be free from the Galra. Now that fear is gone. Her determination is only strengthened by her tenacity. With his mother as the Empress, Shay is even more willing to work with this new Galran regime. And even with Shay’s grandmother as a ranking matriarch on the Balmera, Shay herself as become a strong leader. 

“You could have called me,” Shay announces their entrance to her brother as she peels back the skin flap of the yurt. The inside of the tent is a mishmash of Balmeran tribal décor and tech that Pidge and Hunk had helped set up. An amalgamation of transponders, computers, and consoles. Inside the yurt is stiflingly warm, the only relief is a cool breeze that disappears as the skin flap falls back down behind them. 

“Rax,” Keith greets. “You called?”

Rax gets up from his control center, scrambling around while using his thick tail for balance. “Prince Kythel!” He doesn’t move to embrace them like his sister. He’s never been a touchy-feely guy and Keith is grateful for it. 

Instead he moves to one of the farthest consoles, a big black machine filtering hot air in and out as lights blink up the sides. It’s old and Keith wonders which scrap heap Pidge pulled it out from. Rax toggles through a few of the controls and inserts an encrypted chip into an outbound port. 

“So,” Rax begins. “I was doing a few of my rounds. Checking multiple frequencies. Checking in with outposts within our system. I checked in with Arus this morning. Everything was well. I was glad. But then something came into one of our…lesser used machines.”

“This one?” Krolia gestures to the black console. 

Rax nods sagely. “Yes. I was worried. We rarely get anything on this behemoth. Hunk and Pidge set it up to receive deep space messages. In case anyone got lost out there and needed some help. We are one of the only outposts besides Olkarion that has one of these machines.”

Keith’s eyes raise in question. It’s how they all got into this mess. Pidge probing deep space and getting signs of _Voltron_ everywhere. Him, being drawn out into the desert. Keith fights back the urge to rub his temples. 

“What did you find?” Acxa asks for him. 

“Coded frequencies,” he tugs the encrypted chip out of the outbound port. “Several of them. I could not read them. I had plans to send them to Marmora headquarters after learning Voltron was on an extended mission.” He pointed looks from Keith to Shay. “But I had no idea that a Marmora ship would be here. It is good that I caught you.”

Keith nods, plucking the chip from Rax’s outstretched hand. 

“You weren’t able to decode them?” Krolia asks. 

Rax shakes his head. “I am not that well versed in decryption. Everything I have learned is from Pidge and Hunk, but when they are not available it is rather difficult. I am hoping that you have someone on your side that could decrypt them.”

“I believe I can manage,” Larka says, taking the chip from Keith and rolling it around in her open palm. “It may take a while, but I’ll decrypt it. Would you like a copy of the messages when I’m done?”

“Send it to your Record at headquarters,” Rax murmurs. “Share the information when you are ready.”

Larka nods. Krolia eyes the chip, watching thoughtfully as the Empress pockets it in her flight suit.

“Thank you,” Acxa says tersely. “For the intel. We’ll use it well.”

They end up staying the night, feasting on seasoned grubs and succulent meats. Keith stays clear of the grubs no matter how tasty his mother says their wriggling bodies are. Shay gives them a private tent near the large yurt that houses her family. 

It’s when Keith is getting ready for bed that Acxa finally corners him. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…leaving Akira behind. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Keith shrugs. “I know she’s safe. I’m just worried about Honerva and whether or not they’ll find Narti.”

“I’m sure they’ll radio us when they find her,” Acxa murmurs. Her gaze shifts to Krolia oiling her guns and then to Larka who has plugged the encrypted chip into a portable console that she had fished out of the ship. “They’re too quiet.”

“I’m waiting for the explosion,” Keith utters grumpily. 

Acxa lets out a soft bark of laughter. “You want to make a bet?”

“A bet?”

“When they’re going to start arguing?”

“Fifty GAC. I’ll give them until morning,” Keith says, “before they start arguing about something.”

“I’ll give them a varga,” Acxa smirks. 

“Deal,” he says, shaking Acxa’s hand in confidence. 

The next morning comes without an argument. Shay sees them off and they’re back on the road again towards the Quantum Abyss coordinates that Krolia had stolen while under Ranveig’s command. But there is a tension simmering between Krolia and Larka. Larka busies herself in the bowels of the shuttle, attempting to decrypt the messages, translating the code to Galran without a cipher key. Krolia makes a quick lunch of sandwiches and recycled warm mineral water. She manages to pull Larka away from the portable console for a good varga before she disappears back to the messages. 

“We should have just sent someone else to the Balmera after receiving their message,” Krolia murmurs, cleaning up after them. 

Acxa shrugs. “We were the closest available coalition members. And maybe it is important.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “But this mission we’re on is important, too.” 

“Stop worrying,” Acxa sighs. “She’ll come out of her hole sooner or later.” 

Within another varga, the simmering turns into a boiling and then a high broil, but still the explosion doesn’t happen. If anything, it turns quiet. Krolia avoids Larka and Larka ignores Krolia. Keith momentarily wonders if something else is afoot. Did something happen before they left Gal? 

They’re leaving a quadrant when Larka comes up from the bottom deck with her hands full of the console. The chip glimmers from the outbound port.

“I’m almost done, but…” Larka murmurs.

“But?” Krolia prompts darkly. 

“I want to give this to Dorma,” she says. “There’s one piece that I can’t decipher. The message doesn’t make sense without it.”

“You want to stop by Olkarion?” Krolia asks. “Are you serious, Larka?” 

“It would only take—”

“We need to remain focused,” Krolia interrupts. “Quantum. Abyss. We don’t have much time. We need to gather evidence on what Ranveig is trying to do. He’s using it as a pipeline. One that hadn’t been allowed during your father’s reign. _You_ need to remain focused!”

“I am focused!”

“No, you’re not,” Krolia scoffs. “You’re easily distracted right now. And I’m here to make sure you stay focused.”

“I’m not the sort of leader who will sit on a throne while others do my work for me. You know that’s not who I am. You’re being obtuse.”

“I’m not being obtuse. You’re being irresponsible.”

Keith almost expects them to get into a melee skirmish, but their heads remain cool and their hands to themselves. Larka stomps down the narrow stairs to the bottom deck with her console and Krolia busies herself at the small communication deck. 

“You owe me fifty GAC,” Keith murmurs at the cockpit with Acxa leaning against the back of the pilot’s seat. 

“It’s way pass morning.”

\--

They continue on towards the direction of the Quantum Abyss. It doesn’t show on their radar, but Keith recalculates the coordinates every so often. They pass by wandering planets, strange worlds brimming with life and untouched by the Galra. Thankfully. 

The vargas slowly drift forward. The farther they travel from Gal and the Balmera and Olkarion, the more remote the area becomes. Cold and isolated, a damaged and unstable sector of space. 

“Why is he using this place?” asks Keith, hands tightening anxiously around the piloting controls. 

“ _If_ he’s the only one,” Acxa murmurs, leaning forward, eyes searching out the front window. 

Acxa’s words startle Keith. They’ve been so focused on Ranveig that they hadn’t thought about someone else using this remote locale. Why wouldn’t they? They haven’t seen a ship since entering this area and they aren’t even near the Quantum Abyss yet. It’s just an outer rim of asteroids and the few desolate planets. A twinkling star beginning to slowly putter out like a flickering fairy light.

Keith turns his head, looking for Krolia at the back console, only to find that the spot is empty. Sometime between their last argument and the past few vargas, she had disappeared down into the bowels of the ship once more to find Larka. Sighing, Keith shifts the controls forward and stands up from the pilot seat. 

“You think you can fly this thing for a while?” Keith asks Acxa. 

Acxa shrugs, slipping into the seat and readjusting the controls. “Yeah. I can handle it. Where are you going?” She watches subtly as he walks down the deck and towards the narrow staircase. 

“Making sure they aren’t having a battle down below,” he murmurs, darkness creeping into his tone. Now isn’t the time for Krolia and Larka to be doubting each other. Nor is it the time for them to be arguing. He knows Kolivan wasn’t that happy with their decision to go on this mission, but he will be less happy if he finds out that they aren’t working well together. Especially after Krolia insisted on partnering up with Larka after Antok’s death. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, leaping down and landing with a soft metallic thump. He sighs again, overhearing the raised voices coming from down in the small science laboratory. Larka’s voice, unusually high-pitched and frantic; Krolia maintaining a cool tone. Keith comes to a halt, standing just beneath the low sub-lights of the doorway. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, startling both of the women. 

“Acxa is flying?” Krolia asks, ignoring Keith’s question.

“Who else would be flying?” he quips. “Now, what is going on between you two?”

Larka chuffs, turning away to fiddle with the equipment on the workbench. 

“She won’t see reason,” Krolia bemoans, tugging at Larka’s shoulder. 

Larka attempts to shrug her off. “I arrested her, didn’t I? I wasn’t going to let what she did go unpunished. You—and everyone else—should know me better than that.” 

“Honerva?” Keith prompts.

Krolia’s hand squeezes Larka’s shoulder, but nods nonetheless. 

“Honerva is corrupting him,” Krolia continues. “You need to think about this realistically. When has she ever taken any interest in you or Lotor? Now…suddenly…she’s trying to right the wrongs she’s done? Be some perfect mother? You nor I are perfect mothers by any means, but that woman has only had personal gain in mind for a long time.”

“What would you have me do?” Larka asks, irritation bleeding into her tone. “Have her executed? Exiled? It’s better if we keep her close.”

“For you? Or for our people?” Krolia says, standing over her. 

For once, Keith can see their size difference. Krolia taller, more muscled and toned against the lither body of his mother. Who _would_ win in a fight?

“Enough,” Keith chuffs. “We don’t have time for this. We have a mission to pursue. Your personal squabbles can wait until later.”

Krolia and Larka both stiffen.

“However,” Keith continues. “I agree with Krolia. Honerva can’t be trusted, the faster we find out what’s up with her, the better for us all. If push comes to shove, Mama, you’re going to have to break whatever bond you still hold with her.”

Larka is quiet, fists curling at her sides. She nods. “I’ll do what is necessary.”

“I don’t trust him,” Acxa murmurs from behind Keith. She walks in, slowly but surely. “Don’t worry, I put the ship on autopilot. We’re approaching the Abyss.”

Larka’s eyebrows furrow together. “Who don’t you trust, Acxa?”

“I love Lotor, just as you do. There was once a time when I would have followed him through the rift. Even if what we knew was limited. I believed in him,” she pauses, eyes clouding for a moment before she blinks back tears. “But he’s different now. He’s different than the man I knew. He would have never of begged you for leniency…or to venture to Oriande. He would have manipulated you, searched for a way to get you involved. He would have _never_ asked you for permission.”


	8. Continuum, Part One

“Are you sure about this?” Shiro asks, eyeing Keith through the video. “This could be dangerous. More than what we thought.”

Keith swallows around the tightness in his throat, a ball of white heat that can’t escape. He had called Shiro just before entering the Quantum Abyss. Desperation had blurred his senses. With everything going on in the ship, he wanted one last glimpse of Shiro’s face. His strong jaw line, his high cheekbones, the swirl of white hair threaded against the black, his gray eyes filled with worry. If anything, the sight of his boyfriend made him calmer. _Patience yields focus._

Keith casts a glance at the three women in the cockpit. Acxa pilots as Krolia and Larka stare at the looming oppressive sight before them. Cosmic stardust dances around the outer edges of the Quantum Abyss. In the grand distance, stars collapse and grow and stretch. Bright flashes of light surge through the void. It looks more like magic and less like science. 

_Or maybe they’re the same thing,_ he reminds himself. 

“We should get married after this,” he blurts out quietly. 

Red immediately stains Shiro’s cheeks. “W-what?” he warbles. 

“I’ll ask you properly when I get back, but we should do it,” Keith murmurs, praying to whatever ancient god is listening that his family isn’t eavesdropping.

A soft, slow smile ignites on Shiro’s face and Keith can’t look away. 

“Properly. Next time,” Shiro says. “I like the sound of that.”

“Have you managed to track down Oriande?” Keith asks, willing himself to change the subject.

Shiro’s cheeks are still flushed red but he manages to maintain a neutral expression. “Coran is stating it’s somewhere in the Patrulian Zone. That thing you gave to Pidge,” he pauses. “It’s almost working like a tracking device. It’s leading us.”

Keith’s eyes widen, brows nearly lifting to his mid-forehead. The rate they’re going, the Patrulian Zone is on the opposite side of the universe. It’s an unstable, unknown region just like the area his team is heading into. 

“You just be careful, too,” Keith says. “All of you.”

There’s movement in the corner of his eye. Larka leaving the cockpit and heading down into the ship. Krolia follows her after a few ticks. Probably preparing for the event horizon. 

“We’re almost there,” Keith murmurs to Shiro.

The black paladin’s jaw sets. “When you get back, we have a lot to talk about.”

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

They share a long glance before finally signing off. 

“How’s the boyfriend?” Acxa asks, smiling from the cockpit. Her forefinger taps idly at one of the screens on the dashboard. “Or should I say husband?”

“Fine,” Keith answers, blushing as he leaves the communication deck and jerks his thumb towards the staircase. “Where did _they_ go?”

“Down below to double check the equipment,” Acxa says. “We’re heading into the unknown. They want to be prepared.”

“We don’t even know where we’re going,” Keith chuffs. “We don’t even know what to look for.”

“Anything Galra related,” Acxa says promptly. “We know what we’re looking for. We’ve got coordinates. This quintessence Ranveig’s been using. We can track it. Larka can focus on that instead of the messages and I’m sure we’ll find it in no time at all.”

“You seem really optimistic about this,” Keith comments. 

Acxa nods, more to herself than to him. “This leads to something. Something important. We can’t regain control of this empire without cutting off the resources to Ranveig, Gnov, and Sendak. The more I look at it, the more I believe that they may be working together to overthrow Mama. The faster we find out more about this, the easier it will be to defeat them. Who knows, we may just run into Ranveig while we’re in here.” She gestures to the large swath of dark abyss in front of them. 

“And you’re not worried?” Keith asks. “We have no backup out here. It would take forever for Lotor to send forces out here, let alone Kolivan to come to our rescue. We’ve been tracking down this enriched quintessence for phoebs. We found out that Lotor had his own pipeline. The easiest way for him to get untapped quintessence is to go into a rift.”

“But you spoiled those plans,” Acxa admits. 

“Yes,” Keith nods. 

Silence drifts into the cockpit and sweat beads at his forehead.

“What if,” Acxa starts, releasing one of the piloting controls to scratch at the back of her neck, “what if Lotor used the Quantum Abyss?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow. It had been bothering him since before they started this mission. How much of the unknown where they truly aware of? It wasn’t so long ago that Lotor had been on opposite sides of this war. Hell…he and Acxa had been on opposite sides of this war, too. But this was different. Lotor had been overly ambitious. Threatened everyone’s existence by reopening a portal to another reality, siphoning quintessence in the layers between said realities. And now, they were going to some mystical place, only known in Altean mythology. 

Acxa had been right. Lotor would have manipulated Larka into going on that journey. He wouldn’t have groveled and begged like a dog. Things had changed, and Keith was beginning to wonder who was actually pulling the strings. Had it been Zarkon? Was it Honerva? Or was it something else that controlled this reality? Something godlike…

 _What if something else controls him?_ Keith wants to ask, but instead he says, “I doubt it.”

Acxa twists her head to meet his gaze. “What do you mean? You don’t think he’s capable of—”

“Our enemy right now is Ranveig,” Keith interrupts. “He’s the one we’re after. He’s the one with this _enriched_ quintessence. He’s the one who has been using the Quantum Abyss. That’s who we should remain focused on. Be patient, Acxa. We’ll find out what they’re up to.”

Acxa sighs loudly, turning back just in time to swerve around a floating rock. 

“I’ll follow your lead,” she finally says. 

Their conversation dissipates at the sounds of boots on the metal grated staircase. Krolia appears, followed by an anxious Larka with a pack slung over her shoulder. 

“Mom, what should I do?” Acxa asks. 

“Stay on the radiation signal,” Krolia orders. “We follow that, we find out where Ranveig got that quintessence from. 

“I want you all to understand the value in this mission,” she continues. “We’re entering a volatile area of space. Stars are collapsing. Dense neutron stars orbit larger dark stars. Even the planets are unstable with space and time pulling them apart, re-stitching them back together. Cataclysmic events happen in the Quantum Abyss. Gravity is unlike anything we’ve seen before. I’ve studied this place for deca-phoebs, quietly from the shadows, but even I don’t know all of its secrets.”

“Well, it’s not too late to turn back now,” Acxa murmurs under her breath.

“It is too late for that,” Keith nods at the expanse of space in front of them. “We’re heading into that beast.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Larka starts lamely, “is that space-time is severely warped because of all the different celestial bodies out there?”

Krolia nods. 

Acxa takes them in slow, careful of the rocks and pebbles, the occasional flash of bright light or shadowed edges. There seems to be an eclipse every fifteen doboshes. Scattered debris fields from ancient ships form an ocean of wreckage that causes Keith to take over piloting. He manages to weave in and out, through the rubble as if he’s threading a needle. At some point, his mother stands behind him, her hands tightly gripping the back of the pilot seat. He doesn’t know whether it’s her nerves or the fact that he’s piloting like a maniac. 

“Did Ranveig ever tell you what he was doing?” Larka asks suddenly. 

Krolia shakes her head. “Nothing too substantial. Anything he found or stole or obtained always had some sort of residue showing that it had passed through the Quantum Abyss. I had worked my way up the ranks to the point where I was privy to some of his experiments. Large creatures that would be used for terrain invasions. But he gave no clue as to what he was planning. For a good portion of my time there, I thought that he was working from Zarkon’s orders, but I was wrong. Something else was amiss. He was stealing from Solthro and was forging a man-made superweapon, one that was just as grotesque as Honerva’s own experiments.”

“I only ask because what we’re doing takes sacrifice,” Larka asks, bag still slung across her back. “We have these coordinates but that’s all we have to go on.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Acxa murmurs. It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than she is trying to reassure Larka.

Just as Keith is about to toggle on the thrusters, something jams. His eyes narrow, hands tightening on the controllers as he tries to engage the thrusters again. A high-pitched whirring noise sounds off from the depths of the ship. Another screech. And then another. And then something jostles the whole ship. 

The engine stalls. 

“What’s going on?” Acxa asks, eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” Keith asks, hand already reaching for one of the holo-screens. 

“Run a diagnostic of the ship,” Larka murmurs. 

“I’m doing that,” Keith says, scanning the ship. Keith’s eyes scrutinize the holo-screen as he tries with all his might to swerve past another floating rock. They barely scrape by. The console beeps and then a screeching takes over again, causing them all to hold their palms to their ears. 

“Kythel, what is going on?” Krolia asks through the blaring. 

“Something is caught in one of the air ducts,” Keith recites, reading the diagnosis on the screen. “It looks like an overgrown insect, but it’s caught in there. The air duct helps siphon quintessence to the thrusters. They’re sputtering out.”

“Can you fly without the thrusters for now?” Larka asks. “Maybe until we can land and pull whatever is in there out.”

“I can try,” Keith answers. “Our ability to move will be a bit difficult, but we can manage if we coast. However, that insect could get into the thrusters. Once that happens the controls will be done for.”

“Find somewhere we can land,” Krolia says.

“You got it,” Keith says, pulling hard on the controllers until they start leaning to the right. He scans the horizon. Ahead rests a flat, smooth asteroid. Perfect for a quick detour down. Keith grits his teeth, over compensating with the steering until something jostles the starboard side, shoving them in the opposite direction of the asteroid. Acxa immediately takes over with the holo-screen, ordering another diagnostic reading. The ship calculates as something heavy lands on the hull. 

Keith grips the controllers hard, tries the thrusters once more, only for them to sputter out completely. Nothing will propel and hurdle them forward now. All he can do is steer and hope they don’t crash into anything. 

“Whatever it is,” Keith starts, “I don’t think that I can shake them.”

Something metallic white and bulbous lands on the front glass, a sharp tentacle shatters through it. A large suction sound almost causes his ears to bleed. 

“Helmets on now,” he hears Krolia holler through the turbulence.

Keith tabs at the side of his neck, his helmet pixelating, reappearing, to cover him. His uniform’s hood is whipped over his head by someone but he’s struggling to steer the ship. With the unruly gravity and the rowdy creatures, they keep taking damage. There are more thumps overhead.

“Bank right,” Larka says. “We can make it to that asteroid.”

“We should eject,” Krolia counters. 

“The ship’s lost,” Acxa shouts.

Keith can’t help but agree. His hands are sweating in his gloves. Whatever was in the air duct is in the thrusters now and blocking the fuel lines. _Abandon ship,_ he hears Shiro’s voice in his head. _Do it, Keith._

Krolia rips the bag off Larka’s back and starts rummaging through it. Finally finding the encrypted chip still jacked into the portable console, Krolia rips it from the outbound port and tucks it into Larka’s uniform. 

“You want this so badly,” Krolia grumbles, “keep it on you. We’re abandoning ship.”

“Krolia—”

“Acxa, get back there and start the eject protocol,” Krolia orders. “Kythel, unbuckle yourself. We’re leaving.”

The creature slams another one of its white, sharp tentacles down on glass, breaking it yet it does not shatter. It struggles to disengage itself, pulling wildly at its limbs. It’s stuck, unable to free itself. 

Suddenly there’s an equilibrium before another gust of vacuumed air percolates through the cabin. Keith twists in his seat, hands grappling at his seat belt. Larka, Krolia, and Acxa are gone, but the stern—the back wall of the ship—is also missing. 

Keith curses under his breath and instead slams his hand down on the emergency pilot ejection. The glass pops off with a dull clack and he’s hurdling into the air. The seat disappears below him and he’s sent drifting off to the side. From this position, he can see the blaring ship and the strange creatures grappling atop it…being shredded and stretched as it’s sent closer and closer towards a dying sun.

\--

Keith finds Acxa first, back on that flat asteroid, the surface pitted with holes. They stay put, opting to wait for their mothers.

Krolia is the next to make it to the asteroid in record time. However, one varga passes, another passes, and then a third. And finally Larka makes it to the asteroid. Being ejected first had her thrown the farthest from the shuttle. 

“Everything we had was on that ship,” Acxa says after they’d all rendezvoused on the asteroid. “We have no way of contacting the Blade of Marmora or Gal or Team Voltron. Communication links are jammed.”

“We’ll make do,” Krolia remarks. “We’ll stick to the edges, careful of those surges we saw before.”

“We have no food or water,” Larka adds, standing at the edge of the asteroid and peering down into the blackness beneath. “How long until—”

“We’ll make—”

And that’s when the first surge hits. A bright blinding light, a fragment of images rolling and swelling through his head like a crash of waves. It causes him to collapse on the pitted ground, fingers scraping at the hard rock beneath him. When his eyes reopen as he blinks back dewy tears, he sees Krolia and Acxa screaming. Shouts and cries stream through his audio receiver as they look over the edge of the asteroid, hands clenching the ground too. Keith scrambles up, curled hands pressed to his knees as he takes one gasp of air after another. 

With a horrible wash of realization, he knows that there are only three of them left. His heart thuds in his chest, his hands grow clammy, his brain buzzes fuzzily. He can’t swallow. He feels like he’s seizing, choking on something before he discovers it’s his own hot tears and the blistering feeling that he hasn’t done enough. He wants to redo these past few moments. Go back, see what those images meant. Forget all about the Quantum Abyss mission. He wants to go home. Back to Earth. 

Krolia is dry heaving into her helmet. Acxa is stony, silent, quaking.

Larka is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last season comes out this week! I hope everyone has a fun time watching it!


	9. Continuum, Part Two

“The Law of 4003 on parental rights was a decision about…?” Kolivan questions Larka. His white hair is piled on the top of his head, dark circles rimming his eyes from days spent pouring over old textbooks and illuminated datapads. 

“Um…” Larka hums, rubbing her temples as if she’ll claw the answer from her brain. “I think—”

“You think?” Kolivan scoffs. “This exam is tomorrow.”

“I know that,” Larka grumbles, tugging on her braid before throwing it over her shoulder. “Can’t we just take a break?”

“After this question,” Kolivan chuffs. “Now, the Law of 4003 on parental rights. What is it about?”

“I _know_ it was about group marriages and who has custody of the offspring.”

Kolivan smiles wryly. “You’re going to do fine on this exam.”

Larka grins through her exhaustion. “I’m sure you will too. You got every question right when I asked you.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have anything else to do but study…” Krolia walks into the kitchen, a datapad in one hand and a canister of water in her other.

“What are you doing home so soon?” Kolivan asks. “Father said you’d be late today.”

“I got out of class early,” Krolia replies.

Kolivan gives her a pointed look. 

“Okay…” Krolia starts. “Maybe I skipped class. Sue me, lawyer.”

Larka stifles a laugh. 

Keith watches with wide eyes, tears lingering in them. It’s strange to see the three of them so young. Krolia with a babyface. Kolivan without scars. Larka…alive. Keith swallows down the bile that threatens to crawl up his throat. 

“What are you two studying anyways?” Krolia asks, depositing her items on the kitchen counter. 

“Family law,” Kolivan grumbles. The house’s portable transponder chirps on the wall and he stands to answer it. 

“Princess, I thought you were going to Altea today,” Krolia continues, ignoring her brother.

“Exams,” Larka sighs. “Mother wants me to ace this one. It will get my father off my back about extra duties.”

A strange look crosses over Krolia’s face.

“Do you actually do anything for fun?” Krolia inquires. “Are you even allowed to go outside?”

“Of course, I’m allowed outside,” she scoffs. “I’m _here_ aren’t I.”

“No, I mean like the oasis out in the desert,” Krolia crosses her arms over her chest. “There’s a celebration out there with some of the military boys, some of the girls too. You should come.”

Larka stiffens, looking down at the mess of textbooks and datapads strewn across the table. “I don’t know if I’d be allowed to do that,” she admits. “I have classes and then Altean conferences and I promised Mother I’d help her in the laboratory. I like doing that and—”

“Boring,” Krolia drowns out Larka’s words. Another look crosses Krolia’s face. A mix between admiration and mischief. “I’m not going to take _no_ for an answer. And I promise Sendak won’t be there.”

“He’s too stiff for a party in the oasis,” Larka giggles. “His idea of fun is training or following my father around.”

“Well then it’s settled,” Krolia grins. “I’m taking you to the oasis.”

Kolivan shakes his head as he reenters the kitchen. “You’re not taking her to the oasis, Krol—”

Keith is haphazardly pulled from the vision. He pants, falling back against the side of a rock, wriggling weeds erupting to twine around his wrists. 

“Get away from that,” Acxa says, pulling Keith free of the erupting vines. 

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs. “Did you all see that?” 

Acxa nods, but when Keith turns to look at Krolia, she’s staring off into the distance. 

“Krolia,” Keith calls out.

She stumbles, gains her footing again, and turns to them. “What?”

“Did you see that, too?”

Slowly, Krolia nods. “Yes.”

“Did you all go to the oasis?” Acxa asks, fascinated. 

Krolia shakes her head. “She and Sendak had to go to a dinner on the Dalterion Belt.”

There’s a moment of silence. 

“We need to keep moving,” she murmurs. “Now.”

“What was that?” Keith asks as they jump to the nearest rock. “What did we just see?”

“The past,” she murmurs again. “Like I said. She didn’t come with me. She had her duties.” 

“Why could we see that?” Acxa asks. “Were they your memories?” 

Krolia’s face tightens. “Time is collapsing. Space-time is different here. We’ll see visions of the past and future. We just need to keep moving.”

“Did she ace the exam at least?” Acxa inquires.

“She did,” Krolia smirks. “It’s Larka. She always overthinks things, but she did fine.” 

“I want to keep looking for her,” Keith says. “My mother. We could find her. Please.”

“We need to keep moving,” Krolia repeats. “I-I don’t even know where to start. This happens. Sometimes we lose people on missions. We need to keep moving.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Keith counters. “This is my mother we’re talking about.”

“And she shouldn’t have stood so close to the edge,” Krolia argues, fists clenched by her side. “I-I can’t do anything about it. We need to keep moving.”

Something broils inside of Keith. Anger that turns into rage and resentment. 

“Let’s go,” Acxa says, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder and nodding in the direction Krolia heads to. “We need to—”

There’s another flash of light. Brilliant and white and basking the horizon in a warm glow. 

“It’s another,” Acxa grits her teeth, fear bleeding into her tone. 

“Come on,” Krolia calls out to them. “Stick together. Keep your grappling hooks at the ready.”

Keith tugs out the contraption from his utility belt, before striking it into the nearby rock. He grips Acxa’s hand tightly as she uses her own grappling hook. 

“Hold on,” Krolia shouts. 

Keith does, eyes tightly shut as the blazing light washes over him. When he reopens them, he’s shocked to stand by Narti’s side. In front of them is an empty cell. It’s cold here, deep underground. 

_I should have been honest with you,_ Narti whispers across his mind. _I apologize._

Keith’s mouth moves on its own. “It’s okay. You just need to be more forthcoming now. Regain people’s trust in you.”

_If I had known she would have done this…I would have—_

“Don’t think about that,” Keith says. “We’ll work together now.”

Keith feels a tug behind his eyes and he’s pulled free of this body. Thrown back into his real one. 

“T-that’s…that’s the future,” Acxa whispers, her voice soft. “Narti…”

Keith removes his grappling hook and tugs Acxa along. The surrounding space is a cluster of dark stars and bright terrestrial planets, gaseous planets roiling with life revolve around red binary suns. Clouds of green and blue stardust dance and churn like fresh milk. Creatures sail through the Quantum Abyss, sucked deeper and deeper into the torrential chaos. Each blinding surge brings new visions to Keith’s mind. 

The next, he watches as it comes pouring out from Krolia’s mind. A clutter of images through time until it settles on another cell. This one, so blatantly imperial. He feels himself choke when he sees Krolia and Mick, in a desperate and quick embrace before Krolia is called away by Ranveig. 

“When will you be back?” Mick asks. 

“The mission should take no more than seven quintants,” Krolia whispers. “I promise.”

“I could go with you,” Mick says. 

“You’re a prisoner,” Krolia murmurs solemnly. “Ranveig assigned me to a team. You’re more valuable to the Galra if you’re safe here.”

“What if we both leave?” Mick says quietly. “To your headquarters.”

“My mission is not yet complete,” she says, equally as quiet. “We wait for extraction.”

Keith returns to his stable timeline. That was the same extraction that ended with Antok’s death. His stomach turns, sour and forlorn. That vision was not meant for Acxa or him. It was too personal. The fleeting kisses between Krolia and Mick, the heartfelt embraces, the intimate moments they shared despite his imprisonment. 

“Let’s go,” Krolia murmurs, cheeks flushed. 

It takes a moment for Keith to gather his thoughts. “I’m happy for the both of you.” 

Krolia says nothing, still blushing and hastily trying to walk away from it. As if she can run from her own emotions, her own past.

The three of them climb the cliff of a large asteroid, nearly the size of a building with ten or eleven floors. It’s pitted with holes and abrasions. It has seen a lot of damage but is still a resilient relic of the Quantum Abyss. A light flickers from across the void. The air thrums with energy before another surge starts the slow climb through space. It flashes, clouding Keith’s eyesight. For a tick, Acxa slips, startled by the surge. Keith grabs her wrist as she regains her footing, but just as she rights herself, he is thrown into another vision. 

His hand grows sweaty by the apparition before him.

“Are you ready to go?” Krolia asks Larka. But it’s odd, different. The two look a bit older. More threads of gray hair in their dark manes. 

“I’m trying to get Yurak ready, but he won’t—” Before Larka can finish her statement, a young child, a cub really, comes rushing out of the adjacent room, long white hair combed back from his face, his large ears twitching playfully atop his head. Thace—even grayer—tries to chase after the boy, closely followed by Larka. 

Krolia crouches down, arms outstretched to catch the child in a hug, only for a giggling Yurak to run past her and right into the arms of Mick Kogane. 

The strange moment confuses Keith and he can only determine it’s the future. But who is this child and who is he to his parents? Keith peers out the large window; sees blue skies and one sun, green grass, and…it’s Earth. His parents are on Earth with a small Galra child. Obscenely, jealousy stirs in his gut. 

He’s pulled back into the present, sent reeling even as Krolia and Acxa help pull him over the cliff’s edge. 

“What was that?” Acxa asks.

“The future,” Krolia says.

Her few words slowly dawn on him.

“That means,” Keith murmurs, “my mother is alive.”

\--

Time passes strangely. Ticks to doboshes to vargas to quintants. The days begin to blur together. 

“How long can we go without food?” Keith asks. 

“Didn’t Kolivan train the two of you in starvation simulations and scenarios?” Krolia asks. “Adapt to this. Knowledge or death.” Something has revived Krolia. Ever since the vision with the child named Yurak, Krolia has become rejuvenated. No longer is she thinking about how she’ll tell Thace that his wife is dead. Larka is alive. Somewhere in this void. “I just need to find her.” Krolia comments, more to herself than to Acxa or Keith.

“What?”

“Larka,” Krolia says. “We’ll find her. We just need to look for—” Krolia’s eyes widen at the behemoth traversing through the abyss in front of them. It’s large, almost like a green whale and followed by its offspring. Beside them a flotilla of sea turtle-like creatures move steadily along. Each being has a forest growing on its back, flourishing with its own flora and fauna. It’s dazzling, a unique ecosystem that has learned to travel through this strange abyss of a void. 

“I think we’re getting close,” Acxa comments. 

“They all look like they know where they’re going,” Keith murmurs. “You think we should hitch a ride.”

“No time like the present,” Krolia adds. 

\--

The sprawling flotilla moves slow and steady, nearly keeping up with the slower speed of the whale and her calf. Although it knows how to maneuver through the shaky space and time, she takes her own time, swimming and sailing through a great gorge of blackness before sticking close to a nearing asteroid belt. The ecosystem atop the whale’s back is much grander than what they saw from a distance. Large trees contain sweet fruit, their canopies entwined like a roof. Once Krolia manages to scan the small world aboard the whale, she constructs a small lean-to in a clearing. 

Acxa and Keith go on a short scouting mission. Climbing the steep hills of the whale’s back, clinging to the gargantuan trees as they overlook the entire landscape. 

“What’s that?” Acxa asks, eyes squinting as she looks into the distance. 

“What’s what?” Keith replies with another question, carefully inching towards the bough she sits on.

“That.” She points to the smoke drifting into the sky in the opposite direction of their camp. Keith’s heart stutters in his chest. Before Acxa can stop him, he’s skidding down the tree, cautious of its lean branches. He runs once he reaches the bottom. Each foot pounding on dirt ground beneath him, climbing across fallen trees, grappling over brown and ruddy rocks. He hears Acxa behind him, keeping up with his fast pace as he hurtles himself deeper into the jungle. The last thing he needs is for some beast to get in his way. He looks up into the sky, seeing the smoke drift lazily. 

Finally, he breaks past two large trees, catapulting himself into a round clearing. A yurt has been set up in its center, a hole in the inner ceiling letting out the smoke from the indoor fire pit. It’s a small place, homey yet quite primitive. To the right of the yurt is a fenced in garden of strange vegetables and fruit. All native to the whale’s ecosystem. On the other side of the yurt, a white shuttle sits.

“What is this?” Acxa asks, panting.

“Looks like someone’s been here longer than we have,” he grimaces. The hope he had felt in his chest dissipates, squandering into the ether. He walks towards the doorway, pulls up the flap, and strides in. 

“What are you doing?” Acxa hisses, following after him even though it sounds like she disapproves. 

“Just hoping we can meet our neighbor,” Keith murmurs. 

But the yurt is empty. A pot of stew bubbles over the fire pit. Two bedrolls sit against the far wall surrounded by makeshift weapons. Spears, a few guns, and one rifle. Perhaps this place is more hostile than it first appeared. 

The sound of a growl has Keith and Acxa whirling around. There standing in the doorway is a girl and a wolf. But…not any type of girl. Keith’s breath hitches in his throat. She’s fair skinned with blond hair, violet eyes, and pointed ears. Cyan sickle-shaped markings mar her high cheekbones. 

“You’re an Altean!” Keith gasps.

A look of fear washes over the girl’s face and the blue wolf takes a step forward. Keith raises his hands. He nudges Acxa with his elbow until she does the same. 

“Look,” he pauses. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re just—”

“Who are you?” Acxa cuts in, somewhat dramatically. “Are you a part of the Imperials?”

“Acxa!”

“Right now, your judgement’s clouded, Kythel,” Acxa grits her teeth. “I know why you wanted to come here. She’s not here. I’ll ask you again: are you a part of the Imperials? Where did you get that shuttle? And call off your companion.”

Sometime when Acxa had taken over the interrogation, the Altean had wrapped her arms around the wolf’s neck in a desperate attempt to pull him back. 

“I’m sorry! I can’t do that!” The girl shouts. “I-I…he doesn’t like to listen to me. I’m sorry.”

“Your companion doesn’t listen to you?” Acxa chuffs. “Unbelievable.”

“And I don’t know anything about the Imperials…I mean, I do know they exist but I’ve never met any of them.” She pauses, finally yanking the wolf into submission. “But…your name! Kythel? Then you must be Acxa…or are you Krolia?” 

Acxa is about to launch herself at the Altean. The wolf is about to tackle Acxa. Keith needs to get this situation under control, even while his heart flutters in his chest. This girl knows of them. That means—

“Do you know a woman named Larka?” Keith shouts, pulling Acxa back. 

“Romelle?” Calls a voice, a voice so familiar it makes Keith’s heart sing. “What’s that boy barking at now?”

The flap of the yurt flips open and Keith launches himself into his mother’s arms, his own wrapped tightly around her. 

“Ancients, Kythel?” she breathes before she’s holding onto him tightly, frozen by the sight of her son. Her gaze flickers over to Acxa who looks just as shocked, eyes wide and hands shaking. And then Acxa is flying into Larka’s outstretched arm. 

“How?” Keith asks, pulling back despite Acxa’s position around the two of them. “How did you get here? How long have you been here?”

“Kythel,” Larka says quietly. “My son. I’ve been here for eight phoebs.”

\--

Time moves strangely in this continuum. On the walk back to their camp, Larka explains everything. How during the surge, she had clumsily slipped from the edge. How she fell and kept falling for vargas until she reached a small planet. How she practiced her druid teleportation, determined to find them in the Quantum Abyss and be reunited. It was then while tapping into the ancient and arcane magic, that she had gone through each of the surges as well. Her visions entirely focused on Honerva. With those memories, she had picked up on Honerva’s quintessence signature. She followed it like it was beacon, the signature so strong that she almost expected for her mother to be on the other side of it. 

Yet it wasn’t her mother who was waiting for her, but a plethora of laboratories sprinkled throughout the abyss. 

“And that’s when she met me,” Romelle interrupts cheerfully as she trails behind them. “I have to admit that I was so surprised to see a half Altean here!”

Larka nods, continuing on and telling them about how she found the simulated planet that Romelle and a colony of Alteans were living on. 

“Something wasn’t right,” Larka admits. “So, we did some investigating.”

And the investigation revealed cloning facilities, experimentation on superweapons, and quintessence siphoning facilities. Places where Alteans were drained of their quintessence and left as husks in vats. Keith’s stomach roiled at the thought. 

“Every few days we take the shuttle and investigate new facilities,” Larka finishes. “Each more disturbing than the last, but at least there are some Alteans that are still safe.”

“How many more are there?” Keith asks. "These bases?"

“One,” Larka says. “But our fuel is running low. We have to pick some up at one of the cloning facilities before we go to the last one. We can visit the Colony after.”

“So, you always had the opportunity to leave?” Acxa asks.

Larka nods. “But I knew the three of you were still out here. I wasn’t going to leave you. While we researched the laboratories, I would always be looking for you.”

“It’s only been ten days for us,” Keith explains. 

“Time works differently, especially aboard this creature,” Larka explains. “I am only happy that I’ve found you.”

“Who made the laboratories?” Acxa and Keith ask in unison. 

“My hypothesis is that my mother did. Whether she had help from someone else is irrelevant,” Larka admits. “I’ve also come to the consensus that although she may have forgotten who she was in the beginning, deep down inside, I’m sure she and Zarkon always knew who they were. It infuriates me. Regardless—”

Just as they’re entering the clearing, Krolia tackles Larka down on the ground with a loud thud. 

“You idiot! I had to beg and plead with my brother about this mission,” she shouts, pinning down Larka by her shoulders. “And you throw yourself off a ledge.”

“It was an accident, Krolia,” Larka says, almost laughing.

“This isn’t funny. Do you know how worried I was?”

Keith shakes his head while Acxa rolls her eyes at the display. For once the trip regains its normalcy. And since entering the Quantum Abyss, they have a destination. 

\--

“How far until we get there?” Krolia asks. They are all crammed in the small shuttle as Larka pilots it away from the last fuel depot. The space wolf, Romelle, Acxa, and Keith are crammed behind them. Keith hates it.

“Just give me fifteen doboshes,” Larka says. “Just relax.”

“You seem calmer than usual,” Krolia comments. 

“I’ve had time to think. My mother is behind this. I still don’t understand when and how and why she wished to do this. Taking Alteans and experimenting on them…and if Lotor had anything to do with this…”

“And I told you before that he does,” Romelle huffs. 

Larka ignores her in favor of steering the shuttle to miss a floating rock. 

“What if there is something else?” Acxa asks. “Kythel and I have been thinking—”

“That something else controls her?” Larka prompts. “I agree. But until we know for sure. She’s an enemy.”

“A locked-up enemy,” Krolia murmurs. 

“For now,” Keith adds. “Remember the vision.” 

“Which vision?” His mother asks.

“During one of the hallucinations, we saw her cell empty and Narti had rejoined our side.” 

Larka sighs. “Let’s just hope we get to her before she decides to bail out. Perhaps we can rewrite the future now that we know it.”

She takes them into a shadowy part of space, tucked between two stars and masked by three planets. The base sits on the middle planet, embedded in a crater. She flies them in low, docking in a chamber beneath the base. It creaks and groans, empty despite the auxiliary lighting flickering to life as they enter.

“You think this is another cloning facility?” Romelle asks, all cheerfulness leaving her voice. She sounds troubled. Keith can’t expect that any of this was good for her. Finding out that her people lived inside a simulation. Keith shakes his head. What had Honerva been planning prior? He knew that she had managed to hide much of her work, but this…this was something different. This was far more sinister than simply hiding notations for your son to eventually find. 

“No,” Larka answers matter-of-factly. “This is something different.”

“It feels like a tomb,” Krolia says. Glancing at the old Galra architecture. The high, cathedral-like ceilings. The dark red and purple walls. But despite the look of chilliness, it is warm. Stiflingly dry like the deserts back on Earth. They follow down the main broad corridor, the wolf's nails clicking against the metal floor is the only thing that makes any sort of noise. 

“Looks like there’s a door up ahead,” Acxa murmurs. “Who wants to hack their way in?”

“I’ll do it,” Keith replies, shrugging. He hastily digs into his utility belt’s main pack and plucks out a portable device. He hurries to the door, hastily yanks the identification pad off until all that is revealed is the wires beneath. With steady hands, Keith connects the device to the inner wires. He’s sure Pidge would have done this faster, even manage to gather intel from this one section of wires that probably were connected to the whole facility. _But that’s not my forte,_ he thinks. 

Finally the door beeps, sliding open slowly.

“What the hell is that?” he murmurs aloud. 

There’s a sharp inhale of air coming from one of the women and yet…

Sitting in the middle of the chamber is a sarcophagus, similar to the glass cloning containers. He can see the bulky figure within, sleeping peacefully in the pod. A holo-screen attached to the front steadily beeps out the person’s normal vitals. His mother is brushing past them, past him, peering over the edge of the container and at the sleeping figure. Her hands ball up into fists, her shoulders shake, enraged. Keith can’t help himself. He follows her, stands right beside her before looking at the body in the pod. 

Zarkon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a lot of intense mixed feelings about the last season. SMH
> 
> FYI, No new chapter until January 7th.


	10. Worthy

Keith flexes his fingers, grips tight to the air around him and lets out a deep breath. 

Zarkon, buried in this tomb. Alone. 

Keith drowns out the sound of Krolia and Larka arguing. He ignores the subtle tension between Romelle and Acxa as they watch. The base groans and creaks in the background, echoing the sounds of a headache brewing behind Keith’s eyes. 

“…should kill him.” Krolia’s voice trickles through the haze of shock. 

“We need to find out why he’s here,” Larka murmurs, eyes still locked on the body of her father. The soft inhalation, the rise and fall of his chest within the chamber. The minute twitches despite his deep slumbering. 

“We can report back what we found,” Krolia remarks, “but we have an opportunity to end this. End this tyranny.”

 _Pull the plug,_ Keith wants to agree.

“The only tyranny created right now is by Sendak and Ranveig. They already think he’s dead,” Larka says. “Think past this. Honerva must have put him here.”

Krolia looks back and forth between Zarkon’s body and Larka, chewing on her lower lip. “Then why?”

“Why indeed…” Larka sighs, perturbed. “We should take him back to headquarters.”

Krolia stays silent, staring at the body. “We should leave. Blow this base and head to Romelle’s colony. We can reconvene there and think about our next move. We should head back to Gal afterwards, interrogate your mother, and find out what’s really going on.”

“We’re not leaving without Zarkon,” Larka counters. “He’s more valuable in this state.”

Keith rubs at his forehead, willing the headache away. “We’ll need a bigger ship if we’re going to take Zarkon back to headquarters.”

Krolia lets out a deep sigh. “What would we gain by bringing him back?”

“Can’t we dig through his memories?” Acxa pipes up.

“You can do that?” Romelle asks, eyes wide.

Larka nods, “We can. It may take some time, but we can figure out his last moments before he—”

“Turned into a vegetable,” Keith interrupts. “We do this, there’s no going back. We’re going to have to deal with Honerva and Zarkon. They’re both too dangerous…especially with Mama as the reigning Empress.” 

“Who knows what Zarkon will do if he wakes up,” Acxa says. “Perhaps digging in his memories while he’s still asleep is for the better.”

“Agreed,” Larka remarks. “We should move quickly. Krolia and I will look for any more intel about how he got here. There has to be a console with flight records.”

“Fine.” Krolia folds her arms across her chest before turning around and heading towards the door. “The three of you stay here with the body. We’ll be back.”

Larka shakes her head solemnly before following Krolia out of the chamber.

“What was that?” Romelle blathers. “Are they usually like that?”

“Butting heads?” Acxa asks. “Yeah. Frankly, I don’t know how they’re field partners.”

“They work well together,” Keith murmurs. “They always make sure the other sees the whole picture. It’s better that they challenge each other now rather than agreeing with everything the other one says. In the end, they defer to each other’s wisdom.” 

“If you say so,” Romelle winces.

Keith eyes the Altean colonist. She had to be confused about all this. Outsiders arriving into a realm that has never been breached by anyone besides Honerva and probably Lotor. Romelle had explained how she was born on the colony, how her family had disappeared one after another to a secondary colony. How she found her brother, emaciated and struggling for life. What Keith didn’t understand was how Lotor played into all of this? Why would he go through all this just to make a colony of hidden Alteans? Why take Honerva’s research and hand it over to Larka but leave out this specific piece of information? What did he have to gain by keeping it from Larka? 

“Are you sure that Prince Lotor is on this?” Keith asks. “Are you sure he was aware about this colony project?”

Romelle nods. “Absolutely.”

“How do you know that?” Acxa asks. 

“Because I met him,” Romelle says. “Well, I didn’t _meet_ him actually. It was more like I saw him when he visited.”

“And how may times did he visit?” Acxa interrogates.

Romelle shrugs. “Plenty of times. Each time was the same way. Lotor would visit when he came for people. It must have been after his tenth trip during my lifetime when the visits ceased. Not long after, my brother’s ship came crashing down onto the colony. That was when I learned of his secrets. Lotor even came after my brother…personally.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Keith says. “When he found Honerva’s hidden research, his goal was to make a pipeline, one where he could siphon quintessence from the rift.”

“But you destroyed those plans when you destroyed the gate,” Acxa says matter-of-factly. 

“Exactly,” Keith remarks.

“But then why did he have the colony that Honerva likely built?” Acxa asks before answering herself. “She could have made a backup Altea after the original planet was destroyed. Kept in secret.”

“Maybe Lotor had multiple projects,” Keith says. “Perhaps he had a backup plan if something else went wrong.”

“Like siphoning quintessence from living organisms,” Larka says, striding into the chamber with Krolia hot on her heels. “That’s what all the other bases were holding. Alteans that were stripped of their life force.”

“But from some of the transportation logs,” Krolia begins, “it looks like he stopped this endeavor once he retrieved the second comet.”

“How long after?” Acxa asks.

“About a movement,” Krolia answers.

Acxa’s fists curl at her sides.

“Was there any time he wasn’t with us?” Larka asks. “Kythel and I had been in your custody at the time.”

“But you were in the laboratories…” Acxa trails off. “Perhaps he could have disappeared every once in a while.”

“Would it had given Ranveig enough time to find a stray ship carrying enriched quintessence out of the Quantum Abyss?” Krolia inquires. 

“Perhaps,” Keith says.

“So if his plans for the pipeline were thwarted and he abandoned the colony—”

“He’s turned to Oriande now,” Larka remarks. 

“Larka, you really need to get a firm grasp over your family,” Krolia murmurs. 

Larka rolls her eyes. “Regardless of Lotor’s plans. The logs check in that Honerva had been here at this depot ten deca-phoebs prior.”

“So recent?” Romelle asks. “Why didn’t she visit the colony then?”

“I’m not sure,” Larka replies. “But we can infer that she and Lotor had never met while in the Quantum Abyss. Lotor may have never of ventured to this depot but he had been to the other ones.”

“But what was peculiar is that Honerva wasn’t the one to transfer Zarkon here,” Krolia says.

“He’s only been here a few phoebs,” Larka adds. “But he was delivered by a sentry unit.” 

Keith scrubs at his forehead again. “So Lotor has had a backup plan behind a backup plan just in case we got in his way and Honerva had sent Zarkon here for safe keeping?”

“It appears that way,” Larka remarks. 

“We just don’t know why,” Krolia says.

“Perhaps she had the sentries send him here because she was in our custody,” Acxa says, eyes widening. “Maybe she used Narti to convey the messages.”

“It is likely,” Krolia grimaces. “We’ll figure it out. But first we need to find a bigger ship so we can get back to headquar—”

“Halt!” Shouts a mechanical voice. The five of them look up to see a group of sentries around the entrance of the chamber. 

“Okay, maybe we should have searched this base before standing around talking about some half-dead emperor,” Romelle mutters. 

_You think,_ Keith says to himself. He unsheathes his blade before pelting it through the air. It sails in an arc just as the sentries begin to rain down gunfire. It hits the first sentry in the throat, sparks spewing from the pierced neck. Out of the corner of his eye a blaze of blackish-purple energy scores a hole through the cuirass of a sentry. It tumbles down, backing up into another with a sharp clang. Krolia is on it in a tick, wedging her own blade into the sentry’s chest and yanking down. Wiring spills out of the opening as it falls back. On the other side of him, Acxa launches herself into the air, skewering two more sentries in the face while Cosmo takes out the last few of the sentries with well-aimed teeth. 

Romelle winces at the scene. “Shouldn’t we hurry? Before more of them come.” 

“We’re clearing the base first,” Keith murmurs. “We can’t leave Zarkon here if they know we’re here too.”

\--

It takes a varga for them to clear the three levels of the base depot. They manage by breaking up into groups of three with Romelle staying with Larka and Krolia, and Cosmo joining Keith and Acxa. By the time they’re finished, they load into the Altean shuttle and begin their trip to the colony. He lets his mother pilot while he looks out the front window, staring at the black expansiveness and the strange nebulae slowly coiling and churning in the abyss. 

Larka lands the shuttle at another base. 

“I thought it would be a planet,” Acxa murmurs. 

“It’s simulated,” Larka says. “From the outside it is a standard Imperial depot, but on the inside it’s a world built to keep the Alteans safe.”

“Or that’s what we were led to believe,” Romelle adds ominously.

They land inside the depot and it’s unearthly warm, stiflingly humid inside. Keith wonders what would happen if the auxiliary power were to shut off. Would the artificial sun go out inside the base? Would it plunge the Alteans into a lifelong darkness? Would they ever have figured out any of this if Keith and his team hadn’t come to their untimely rescue? It’s a stretch to think that the Alteans would have ever been the ones to figure it out. Romelle appears to be the exception to the rule, a young girl bent on questioning the world around her. She’ll fit in well with the ragtag Team Voltron.

“We need to take these people and bring them to Gal,” Keith reiterates his own thoughts aloud. It would be too dangerous for them to leave these people behind. Too many things could go wrong and not all of it would be due to auxiliary power powering down. What if Ranveig took a team on an excursion to the Quantum Abyss, willing to find more beasts and weapons no matter the cost. They would surely eradicate this group of Alteans.

Everyone turns around to face him. In his daydreaming, he hadn’t realized that they had all gotten out of the shuttle and had entered the sliding doors to the colony within. 

The first thing he feels is the artificial breeze, a gust so soft that it ruffles his hair and tangles in his short braid. The vegetation is green and wild, all lush and vibrant like a Terran forest. A babbling stream titters on in the distance. When they reach it to cross a bridge that will lead into the outskirts of the village, the bank is a sandy pale pink underneath his boots. Birds chirp in the boughs above them and voles shuffle in the moist dirt beneath their feet.

“I agree,” Acxa says suddenly, taken aback by the artificial world tucked within the base. 

Larka and Romelle are the two leading their small group but they ignore the conversation, heading deeper into the shallow tree line. 

“What?” Larka finally asks aloud. 

“We haven’t really discussed it, but we should bring the colonists into the fold,” Keith says. “They’ll be safer on Gal.” 

“We were discussing it before,” Romelle pipes up softly. “Before we met up with you, Larka and I thought it would be best if we transfer my people somewhere safe. Someplace we can integrate properly…”

“But…?” Keith prompts. 

“But…my people may not understand that they’ve been pawns within a far grander plot,” Romelle explains. “That’s why I’ll have you meet with a small group of the colonists in private.”

“A controlled environment,” Krolia supplies. 

Romelle nods, nearly tripping over a tree root before Larka grabs her by the shoulder and rights her properly. “You’ll be meeting with Tavo and Merla…perhaps Luka if I can draw her out,” Romelle continues with a nod of thanks towards Larka. “But that may be a longshot.”

“Why is that?” Acxa asks. 

“Luka and I don’t quite get along,” Romelle winces. “She believes I’m a busybody. I question too much. She likes rules and regulations and I’m more…”

“Free-spirited,” Larka says. 

Keith smiles. His mother likes the Altean. Perhaps it’s nice meeting an Altean that doesn’t have ulterior motives. Romelle seems kind and plain with her words. There aren’t hidden meanings in her speech. She has lived a humble, quiet life on the outskirts of her village. But she’s voracious when it comes to knowledge and doesn’t seem to be a pushover when it comes to learning more about things she wasn’t meant to know. Keith wonders in another life time if his mother was a lot like Romelle when she was younger. It seems like a lifetime ago, and those visions only confirmed it.

The village is a sprawling town filled with white houses and rolling knolls. There’s so much space here, perhaps Honerva thought the Alteans could be seen as cattle. However, Lotor had clearly been the one _treating_ them like cattle throughout his minimal time with the Alteans. He had seemed like he had changed, but Lotor had still kept secrets from them. Keith’s stomach broils with anxiousness. How were they going to convince three Alteans to trust them and bring them someplace else? Suddenly, Keith doesn’t want to have anything to do with this coming conversation. 

Romelle takes them to her home, a small cottage at the top of a hill. The small group piles into the house as she leaves to retrieve her Altean companions. 

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Krolia asks, settling into an overstuffed armchair to pet Cosmo on the head. 

Larka picks up a holographic photograph of a family of four that sits on a small side table. Keith peers over Larka’s shoulder to stare at the photo. He recognizes Romelle’s smiling face and only assumes the others are her brother and parents. Larka places the photograph down in its same place. 

“What would you have me do?” she asks. “Leave these people.”

“We have a lot of mouths to feed on Gal right now,” Krolia says. “We keep taking in refugees.”

“They are my people, Krolia. Allura’s people. Alfor’s people,” Larka says softly. “I’m not leaving them here on this _planet_ to die out.”

Krolia sighs, resigned. “Alright. I’m with you. As long as you know what you’re doing.”

It only takes a few more doboshes for Romelle to reenter the cottage with two Alteans in tow. A young woman and a dark skinned man stand behind her, the man closing the door safely behind him.

“This is Merla and Tavo,” Romelle begins the introductions. “Everyone this is…”

“I’m Larka,” his mother begins, rather nervously. “This is Krolia and our children, Acxa and Kythel. We’ve come to—”

“What’s this all about?” the man questions tersely.

Romelle raises her hands in mock surrender. “I asked you to hear them out.”

“You’ve brought outsiders here because of your expeditions—”

“And I’ve told you that everything isn’t as it seems—”

“I’m not listening to your crazy prattling anymore, Romelle,” Tavo exclaims. “This is ridiculous.”

He makes a move to leave, even as Merla looks anxiously between Tavo and Romelle. This is getting too difficult. Would it be worth it if they won’t hear them out?

“My mother,” Larka shoots out. “She’s Honerva—Haggar—and my brother…he is Lotor.”

The name of her brother stirs something on Tavo’s face. His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes Larka. A flicker of recognition. And then—

“Did he send you?” Merla asks, almost excitedly. “Is he coming back soon? It’s been deca-phoebs”

Larka slowly shakes her head. “My brother isn’t coming back here.”

“He’s too focused on his new project,” Keith says passive-aggressively. “He’s not coming back.”

Silence fills the room. 

“What do you mean?” Tavo asks curiously. 

“This may not mean anything to you now,” Keith answers, “but he’s focused on a different project. Oriande.”

“Kythel,” Larka chides. 

“It’s the truth,” Keith says. “He won’t come back here, but we’ve come here. To help you. You’re inside a simulation, a Galra base. What’s best for you is to come back with us. We have a place far safer than this.”

The truth must be too much to handle because Keith’s words are only met with confused faces and solemn looks. 

“What are you talking about?” Merla asks, reproachfully. “You’re telling me that everything that Romelle has been talking about is true?”

Larka nods. 

Merla’s gaze flickers over to Tavo.

“You’ll be able to see Lotor again,” Acxa says. “He’ll be back from Oriande. You’ll be able to meet him for real, not some false messiah. But you have to be willing to gather your people and come with us.”

“Please,” Romelle says. “It’s not safe here. It’s never been safe. Help me convince the governor. Tavo, he’s your father. Help _us_ convince him. We can leave on a space ship out of here.”

Tavo worries his bottom lip, chewing on it nervously. “You know this is the exact reason Luka didn’t come. She thinks you’re insane.”

“But I’ve brought Lotor’s family here,” Romelle says. “I have proof. If you walk with me, past those doors, you’d see for yourself.”

Tavo sighs, acquiescent and utterly drained. Like Romelle has had this conversation with Tavo before. “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Keith lets out a bated breath. 

“Larka…” he begins. “Would you be willing to meet my father? Alone.”

“She won’t be going alone with you anywhere,” Krolia starts. “She’s the Empress to our people. Think of it as a precaution.”

“Empress—” Merla says. “So Zarkon is not the ruler any longer.”

 _That’s a whole other issue we have to deal with,_ Keith thinks. 

“No,” Larka says solemnly. “My father is no longer Emperor.”

“Alright, the two of you…Krolia, was it?” Tavo says. “Come with me, but your cosmic wolf stays here.” 

And so begins the journey home.


	11. Land of Confusion

The colonists agree to come with them. Tavo’s father puts up a fight at first, arguing that perhaps this can be settled if Lotor is summoned to the Colony, but Keith wagers that Larka is going to rip into him the moment he walks down the grand staircase of the Castleship. After returning to the depot holding Zarkon and another trip to a large hanger holding Galra space vessels, the Colonists load onto the warship after quintants of packing. 

“We’ll have housing,” Romelle asks one evening, “right?”

Keith nods. “It will be a tight fit for a while. We’ll have to expand the city, but it was designed to hold an entire civilization after Daibazaal was lost.”

Leaving the Quantum Abyss in a large freighter-like warship seems easier than it was coming into the abyss. The most volatile creatures don’t have an issue with things leaving as they do with things coming in. Lotor had also outfitted the ships to easily traverse the Quantum Abyss through shield experimentation. It only proves how much thought had gone into this project. For Lotor to account for the safety of his team and ships. 

“Did you have any idea that Lotor had been planning this?” Keith asks Acxa as they finally leave the Quantum Abyss region. The strangling void is a mere pinprick in their peripheral.

Acxa stays silent before speaking. “There are a lot of things that I don’t know about Lotor. I doubt Zethrid and Ezor and Narti really know what he’s after either. He’s always been mysterious, quiet with his thoughts, and unwilling to share even with those he seems to trust. I can’t fault him for that. After Daibazaal was lost, I’m sure he didn’t know who was ally or foe.”

“It doesn’t excuse him for the experiments he’s been performing on the Alteans,” Keith says, resigned.

“I know,” Acxa murmurs. “I’m only saying that a lot of us have trust issues. Including you, right?”

Keith’s cheeks flush at her open statement. Acxa has always been someone who never hid from the truth. She’d rather fight it out than keep whatever emotions are inside bottled up, but it leaves her cool and collected. In this instance, she’s far more mature than he is. 

“You’ll be fully integrated into our society,” Larka explains to Tavo’s father at a shared meal of expired purple food goo that they’d found aboard the ship’s galley. Krolia and Acxa had teamed up to pilot the ship while Larka and Keith took on imperial duties. “You can elect someone to represent your people within the empire. Any problems you have can be shared through your representative. It will make it easier to handle those situations. We have quite a few factions represented in the empire as it is. You’ll be given a job within the coalition, those to old will be cared for by the community while your youth can enroll at one of our academies—whether that be academic or military. Everyone is compensated for their job and given a stipend by the government. You may use it anyway you’d like. 

“The empire is just a faction of the coalition and we must all work together to make sure that it functions as a solid unit. We have laws and a constitution that must be followed,” Larka continues avidly. “Everyone is expected to work together to achieve freedom from the remnants of the previous regime.” 

“Thank you,” says the older man. “Can you give us time? We would like to hold an election within our group of colonists.”

Larka nods. “Of course. Take all the time you require.” 

“You seem more like a commune and less like an imperial force,” Merla says softly.

Larka nods again, smiling. “If you’d like to think of us as that, then by all means go ahead.”

“We’re not interested in expansion for the sake of hostile takeovers,” Keith adds. “If a world needs our help, the coalition extends its hand. The Galra Empire follows that example.”

Tavo’s father smiles thoughtfully. “Honerva must be proud of her family.” 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Keith sees his mother’s jaw tighten. 

“My mother is currently arrested for not obeying our laws, for trying to kill one of her family members. I would not look to her for any gracious welcomes,” Larka says tersely. 

Tavo must recognize the sudden tension percolating through the room, because he comments on the fact that they should all finish the meal of thick food goo and head to bed afterwards. In a few vargas they will be at headquarters to deposit Zarkon and they’ll all need all the rest they can get.

More introductions are made as dinner progresses. Keith finally meets Luka, who only gripes and groans about having to leave the Colony…along with a few others. By the end of the meal, Larka is filling two bowls with purple food goo and leaves Keith to entertain and answer questions.

The only thing he can think about is Team Voltron and why they haven’t answered any of their messages.

\--

Keith tracks down Krolia and Larka in the small chamber where they decided to store Zarkon’s body. He can’t hear what they’re furtively saying, but he just makes out the steady beeping of the machinery keeping Zarkon alive. Larka swipes at the holo-screen, checking his vitals, scrolling through any extra information she can pry out of the machine. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Krolia asks. 

“For the last time, _yes_ ,” Larka remarks, and then: “He’s stable. For now.”

“What do you mean _for now_?” Keith asks from the doorway. 

The two of them whip around to look at him, but they’re not shocked. It’s as if they expected him to be eavesdropping. Larka is the first to turn back to her father. 

“There’s a timer,” Larka explains. “Somehow Honerva must have set the pod to expel him at a certain time.”

“What’s the ETA?” Keith asks. 

“Roughly four movements from now,” Larka states. “I don’t know what plans she had for him, but I think we’ve successfully gotten in the way of them.” 

“That’s nearly a month’s time,” Keith grits out. “What are we going to do?”

“I can try to change the timing mechanism,” Larka says, swiping through another screen. “Extend the amount of time he’ll be in there to give us more time. But…”

“But…?” Krolia prompts, peering over Larka’s shoulder. 

“There’s a protocol she’s written into the coding,” Larka remarks. “I’m not sure if I can get passed it. It’s like she had a backup plan just in case.”

“What would Zarkon have done if he had awoken there without her?” Keith asks suddenly. 

“You’re assuming that he wasn’t a part of her plan to begin with,” Krolia states. “He could have been the one to insist on putting himself in this pod.”

“But why?” Larka asks. “Why go through all the trouble of hiding when you’d know there would be infighting after you’re gone?”

“ _You’re assuming_ he actually gives a damn,” Keith counters. 

A long, pregnant pause fills the room. 

“Acxa’s measured our time,” Keith comments. “We’re going to reach headquarters in about fifteen doboshes.”

Larka lets out a sigh.

“Any word from Team Voltron?” Krolia asks. 

“No,” Keith comments, worry bleeding into his tone. “We still haven’t heard anything from them yet. We’ve locked onto their frequency but every time we try to get close enough to ringing them, we hit a wall.”

“Perhaps they’ve managed to transcend realities and are stuck in a different dimension?” Larka inquires, tone serious.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Keith says. 

Without another word, the three of them leave, heading down the winding corridors until they reach the bridge. Acxa stands at the largest console, a giant holo-screen projected onto the front glass of the bridge. Cosmo sleeps idly beneath a table that takes up the center of the chamber. 

“Do you think it’s the ship?” Acxa asks aloud. For a moment, Keith believes she’s talking to herself.

“What?” he asks after a pause.

“I still can’t get through to Voltron,” she admits. “But I can’t get through to headquarters either.”

“What?!” the three others shout in unison.

“What do you mean you can’t get through to headquarters?”

“It’s almost like the same outgoing beep we get when we try for Voltron,” Acxa explains. “Like we’ve hit some sort of frequency barrier.”

“How far are we?” 

“About seven doboshes.”

“Open up a frequency for me,” Larka orders. 

Acxa’s fingers apprehensively tap at the holo-keyboard in front of her. “Alright, your audio is on.”

Larka strides up beside her, hands clenched to her side. “HQ this is Empress Larka. Requesting permission to dock a cruiser class vessel. We’re coming in a warship but—” Her audio cuts out as a beeping sound pings off the inbound frequency. It beeps and beeps and beeps until it cuts out altogether. It takes a few ticks, but it sharply starts up again. Larka looks over at Krolia with wide eyes.

“Acxa,” Krolia starts. “Kythel. That’s not a frequency being jammed. That’s a distress signal.”

\--

What’s left of the base is one flickering star and a debris field of metal and rock. Everything has been pulled apart, shredded, left as one tangled thorn of sharp metal. Larka and Krolia are both knee-deep in shock, mouths agape, eyes wide. Unable to do anything more than stare. Keith is the first to break this stupor. He reaches over, tugging on Acxa’s arm. 

“We should check it out,” he says.

Acxa doesn’t say anything else but follows him towards the internal hanger where a small cruiser awaits. They pile in before opening the hanger doors and flying out. The narrow, sliver of space used to traverse into Marmora space is gone. There is nothing left; just the sharp metal and rock, and the blue of a star. It’s an unstable arena of black holes in what was once the Marmora headquarters. 

“There’s one thing, I’m sure of—” Acxa starts.

“And what’s that?” Keith asks. 

Acxa points over to a piece of rounded metal in the distance. It’s a connecting piece of metal that was built into the side of the base where the evacuation pods were mounted on to. The inside of the metal is smooth, like the pods were ejected properly and not torn free. 

“It looks like people had time to escape,” Acxa comments. 

Keith’s brows furrow. Acxa opens up the communication link to relay the information to Larka and Krolia. But Keith can’t help but think. They had time to eject from headquarters before more extensive damage was done? He doubted it was because of the twin black holes. This was a deliberate attack, one that would attempt to shake the resolve of the Blade of Marmora. 

Who would be the one person who would initiate an attack of this magnitude?

“Sendak,” Keith breathes. Only Sendak would have the guts to go after Marmora property, a direct hit to his mother’s pride. Gal had always been his mother’s side project, but Marmora headquarters…it had been the home of all Blades, including his mother. It’s where he was reunited with her. But Sendak wouldn’t know that. He would only care that his mother’s pride and joy was destroyed in a catastrophic event. 

“What?” Larka breathes through the open communication link. “What did you say, Kythel?”

“This is Sendak’s doing,” Keith says again.

Acxa and Keith head back to the ship, docking it back in its hanger. They’re greeted by Romelle. 

“What’s going on?” she asks. “Everyone is staring out the windows and—”

“There’s been a change of plans,” Keith interrupts. “We have to head to Gal as soon as possible.” 

Romelle follows them to the bridge, quietly keeping up with their long strides. But all Keith can think about is the fact that Marmora headquarters has been destroyed. It’s a fruitful effort made by their enemies to destabilize the second largest faction of the Voltron Coalition. What the Blade of Marmora has achieved on Gal is something that had to have been a dream to other Imperial Galra, a feat that was impossible under Zarkon’s reign. Keith knows this. Sendak knows this. The jealousy the commander must feel is probably immeasurable. Yet Keith doubts that Sendak would have wanted this peace. He would rather unite everyone under his banner of the Fire of Purification for the sake of endless wars and the expansion that Ranveig loves so much.

He enters the bridge alongside Romelle and Acxa. Cosmo has left his makeshift den beneath the table in favor of pacing the length of the farthest wall, beneath the expansive glass window. Krolia pilots from the largest console while Larka taps away at the communication board. 

“What did you find?” Krolia asks, turning on the auto pilot and initiating the auxiliary thrusters to steer the ship away from the debris field and the black holes idly sucking in said debris. 

“It looks like they dispatched the evacuation pods before they took on any real damage,” Acxa explains again. “Looks like _Sendak_ didn’t really care that this was unstable space.”

“Knowing him, death by event horizon is honorable,” Krolia jokes but there is no lightness in her voice. She’s stern and unyielding, gone is the shock from before. 

“Finally,” Larka hisses. “I’m getting through. We should get out of the debris field’s range. It’s interfering with my signal.”

There’s a beeping sound unlike the one before and then a staticky crackle.

“Do you think that’s why we couldn’t reach Voltron before?” Keith asks, nervous.

“Let us hope,” Larka says before turning back to the communication console. “This is Larka, come in Hazar.” 

More static. 

“Kythel, who is she contacting?” Romelle asks by Keith’s side. 

“Home,” Keith answers simply. He stares out the front window as the ship swivels to the left, the wreckage slowly leaving his sight. 

“Hazar?” Larka says again. “Come in. This is Larka on an Imperial warship. Name: X3-2. Come in.”

There is another crackling of static before Hazar’s deep voice slips through the audio feed. 

“Larka?!” Hazar shouts. “Larka, are you okay?”

“Are you?” She nearly shouts back. “We just saw headquarters. What happened?”

There’s another blast of static that has everyone covering their ears. 

“—are breaking up—repeat yourself?”

“What happened to Marmora Headquarters?” Larka asks. 

“Sendak,” Hazar answers solemnly. “He attacked. Luckily there were no casualties.”

“How many wounded?” Larka inquires. 

“About fifteen agents and a handful of coalition members who were visiting the Record.”

Keith’s eyes widen. The Record. What happened to the Record? Where they able to extract the information before the attack commenced? Before he can ask the question, Hazar is already talking. 

“Don’t worry about the Record, Larka. Dorma had a duplicate made just in case of situations like this…just…just get back to Gal. Kolivan isn’t…Kolivan wants you and Krolia at the amphitheater as soon as you get back.”

“We have a lot to discuss,” Larka says, just as solemn. “Just make sure the western district is prepared for civilians. We’ll be having some guests.”

~~

“Did you think to call ahead?” Kolivan asks, brows furrowed in irritation. “Not only did Larka almost die, but you found Alteans. That wasn’t enough of a reason to radio me as soon as you left the Quantum Abyss?”

Larka rubs her temples with her forefingers. “Listen, we thought we would be safe to do so once we were at headquarters. We didn’t expect to be met with _that_.”

“You’ve been gone a week, and in that week we’ve lost contact with Voltron and you, and Sendak has been attacking our resource depots, pipelines, and refugee colonies. Thankfully, there have been no fatalities. It doesn’t seem like that is his goal—”

“A week?” Krolia sputters. “We’ve been gone for at least a phoeb or two!”

“The time differences must be astronomical,” Kolivan gripes, almost sarcastic. “But that has nothing to do with the fact that Sendak’s goal is to leave us stranded without Voltron. He must know that the team is currently missing in action.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being too harsh on this?” Larka inquires. “They could still be in Orian—”

“And whose fault is that, Larka?” Kolivan counters. “You should have never agreed to your brother’s fantastical imaginings. And now you’ve discovered a group of Alteans that he may have had something to do with. Not to mention you _did not_ radio me to tell me any of this until you happened to stumble upon what’s left of our headquarters.”

“Kolivan—”

“With these attacks,” Kolivan steam rolls over her words, “our resources are stretched thin. We’ve had to relocate all our agents onto Gal. Now we have more mouths to feed than we have of those resources. What would you have me do?”

“I couldn’t just leave them behind,” Larka argues. “This ties together with Honerva. We have her where we want her. We have the upper hand. We interrogate her until she gives us the answers and then we deal with Zarkon afterwards.”

“You have approximately a phoeb to figure all this out, Larka!” Kolivan comments. “You have four movements to figure out how we’re going to deal with your mother, these Alteans, and Zarkon. Do you understand?”

Krolia looks between them, nervously eyeing the best friends and the argument brewing between them. 

“Of course,” Larka says, clenching her jaw.

“I’m just…” Kolivan takes a seat opposite of them on the back of the bench behind him. “I’m just glad that the four of you are alright. Despite our differences, at least you’re all safe.”

He dismisses them with a wave of his hand, promising them that they’ll have to debrief in the morning. The evening sky is swathed in a deep navy cloud, threatening to burst with late summer rainwater. Autumn curls in the distance, sending a chill through the night air.

“We should head home,” Krolia says softly. “Go to the bathing hall, see the baby, and get some rest. I’m sure Mick and Thace are worried sick.”

“No,” Larka says brusquely. 

“What do you mean _no_ , Larka?” Krolia sputters again. “We—”

“I’m settling this,” she interrupts. “We have to wait until they get back in order to talk to him, but he promised not to withhold information. Yet he did.”

“What are you talking about?” Krolia asks, following Larka down one of the back roads leading to the science building.

“He promised, Krolia. Lotor promised and he lied. He kept crucial information from us that could have helped us in the Quantum Abyss. I’m finding out if he really did know.”

Krolia follows her in silence for a moment. 

“So, you’re just going to barge your way through his private laboratory?”

“He’s lost his privilege to have privacy,” Larka states. “He’s lucky I don’t arrest him when he gets here.”

Krolia raises her eyebrows, baffled by Larka’s sudden anger. She had stayed quiet about Lotor for this long, but perhaps she was being too severe on the boy. Maybe he had been hoping to protect them all from Honerva’s side projects, keeping it to himself to deal with. Krolia nearly slaps herself at the thought that she’s suddenly protecting Lotor from Larka’s wrath.

She follows her, once more in silence, as the doors slide open and the warm air ruffles through their disheveled hair. What Krolia wouldn’t give for a deep, long soak in the bath… But with Larka on a warpath, a bubbly bath filled with earthy essential oils will have to wait.

Larka leads them to Lotor’s private laboratory tucked in one of the back corridors. 

“We were wondering when you’d get here,” Keith states boldly where he leans against the closed doorway. “We’ve been trying to hack our way in, but Lotor’s got a layered security system.” 

“Thankfully, we have Cosmo to get us inside,” Acxa says with a soft smile. 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Larka admits. She stops right beside the door, a few steps away from Krolia. “You with us?”

“I never had a choice,” Krolia says, rolling her eyes. 

The four of them place their hands on Cosmo’s back, dark blue fur feeling soft beneath their gloved hands. It takes only a tick. It feels like a quick snap, whiplash, a tug in her chest and they’re suddenly on the other side of the door. 

Lotor’s laboratory is meticulous, far cleaner than Larka’s own which has tablets and textbooks strewn across every surface. Lotor had everything in its place, a painstaking and thorough area with tablets stacked neatly on one work table. Books in an opulent shelving unit, organized alphabetically by an author’s family name. His lab equipment is cleaned and pristine, stored away in the other cabinets. A large console sits on a table, humming warmly from the surface. 

The room is just as stuffy as Larka’s laboratory. Krolia chuffs, _Desert clansman. They can’t operate unless they’re sweating._

“I’ll check the console,” Larka murmurs. “You all check the datapads and textbooks.”

“I’ll check the journal section,” Krolia says, walking over to a bookshelf on the far end. “What’s your mother’s clan name again?”

“It’s Sayge,” Larka mutters aloud. “Her ancestors were scholars and scientists.” 

In the ancient past, Alteans had separated their civilians by profession and they created extensively large clans. Those of the Sayge clan were made up of those who became alchemists and scholars. The Smythe clan were composed of builders, welders, and engineers. Coran was from that family. From Krolia’s own lessons as a child, she remembered Allura’s mother was of the Tailler clan, a group that housed many Alteans who were weavers and designers. There were many other clans, but it was the Sayge clan that had been in power for so long, up until Alfor’s untimely demise. 

Although Alteans had a rich history, it was a pity that they had been destroyed and fragmented across the universe. 

Krolia flips through another journal, notes scratched into the parchment with a slanted loopy script. She grabs another and then another followed by another. Still nothing, just notations from various long-dead alchemists from Honerva and Alfor’s family. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Keith and Acxa scrolling through datapads and Larka tapping away at a keyboard. She sighs softly, turning back to the next journal. 

Her eyes narrow as she spots this one. It’s a dark leather-bound journal written in some Ancient Altean dialect. 

“Larka, read this?” she inquires. 

Larka turns away from the console’s illuminated screen. “What is it?”

“Old Altean, I think,” Krolia answers. 

Larka furrows her brows before heading over to her. Acxa and Keith place down their tablets and follow. Larka gently snatches the journal from Krolia’s outstretched hand. She leafs through the old pages before stopping on one. 

“You know, when Lotor handed me Mother’s notations, he gave them to me digitally. I never knew she had written them down in journals,” she says tersely.

“That’s it?” Krolia inquires, raising her brows in excitement. 

Larka nods, a frown on her face as she flips to the next page. “These are a bunch of coordinates. It’s coded, but it’s Old Altean.”

“Coordinates to where?” Keith asks. 

“All the bases that Romelle and I visited,” Larka explains. “The first one is the coordinates to the Quantum Abyss. We could have used this intel.”

“But he doesn’t know…” Acxa starts. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Larka says. “He should have told us about these locations. It would have saved us time.” 

“Larka, what are you going to do?” Krolia asks, nervously. 

“I think it’s high time we start keeping secrets of our own.”

~~

His mother is angry. With a good reason. She and Krolia go their separate way, heading to the public bathing hall with the promise that they’ll see them at home. Keith knows that Krolia will try and cool his mother down. Acxa goes with him back to the Fortress, then disappears to her own private bathroom for a shower. Keith knows that he wants one too, but he instead finds his dads cooking dinner, Akira sitting in her highchair. Cosmo—curious as ever—goes up to her, stands on his back paws and sniffs at her face. She giggles wildly when he gives her a lick on her soft cheek.

“Kythel,” Thace says as he enters the kitchen, moving close to embrace him. Mick is the next to hug him. “How did it go?” 

“Kolivan is upset, Mama is angry,” Keith says, lifting Akira from her highchair to give her a kiss on her forehead. “What’s new? Oh yeah, Mama almost died and Mom almost had a breakdown afterwards. We also have new refugees.”

“What?” Mick asks, baffled by his response. 

“They went to bathing hall, but I’m sure they’ll tell you both later. I just want to take Akira, and try and call Shiro,” Keith says flippantly. 

“Alright, son,” Thace starts. “The communication room should be empty.”

“Thanks,” he says with a tired smile and leaves the kitchen. He hears Mick say: “Wait, what’s with the trained wolf?” before the doors shut behind him. He can’t even will himself to answer. A sudden wave of exhaustion has him dragging his feet. He feels drained, stretched too thin and tight, wrung out. There’s nothing more he wants to do than put Akira to bed beside him and sleep for days, but he manages to reach the small communication room. He tabs open the holo-screen and prays he hears Shiro’s voice as he types in the Castleship’s frequency. 

The room is filled with sounds of Akira babbling in his ear, gripping onto his braid. Nervously, he watches the screen pixelate but never form an image. He swallows thickly, palms feeling clammy within his gloves. 

The call never goes through.


	12. Rebirth

The cold front that sweeps across the city-state of Gal is like a bated breath. A chill that leaves a trickle of excitement percolating through the crisp air. The sky is awash in a neutral blue color, not a puffy cloud in sight. The following day, there are clear skies when the Castleship returns. Keith and Acxa are the ones to greet them, while Ezor and Zethrid focus on helping the new refugees from the Marmora Headquarters and the Altean Colony settle in. 

Keith and Acxa watch with avid gazes as the ship rockets into the atmosphere, rights itself and finally settles on its designated landing pad. Doubt fills Keith’s stomach, griping and itching like a squirming eel has called him its home. His hands grow sweaty, beads dotting his forehead. He wipes his palms on his pants before hastily shoving them into his pockets. 

“I’m sure they’re alright,” Acxa says, casting him a sideways glance. 

_Yeah, I’m just overreacting,_ he thinks. But…deep down he knows something is wrong. His call never went through. He never spoke with Shiro and that excitement and anxiety percolating through the air swells around him, stirring and ruffling his hair not unlike the wind. He impatiently tugs on his plait before throwing it over his shoulder allowing it to fall down the center of his back. 

Acxa casts him another look. “I’m giving your hair a trim later. Your ends are getting ratty.”

“Leave it,” he chuffs, irritable as he watches the doors to the Castleship finally open. “I’ll get Mom to cut it.”

“Krolia is in meetings with Larka all day,” Acxa chuffs back. “Until noon at least. When will she have the time?”

“Papa will do it,” he grunts, taking a small step forward. 

“Don’t be so difficult,” Acxa says following him. “I’ll do it.” 

A figure appears at the doorway of the Castleship. The threshold is darkened, like they were operating on auxiliary power for a while. Keith’s eyebrows furrow, steps now hurrying.

“Keith. Acxa,” says the familiar voice of Lance at the entryway. Keith’s stomach drops at the tired, exhausted look on Lance’s face. A pale sheen has overtaken his usually brown skin, drained of its coloring. His shoulders are slumped forward, spine curled like he can’t remove himself from the fetal position even while walking upright. Dark circles tint his lower eyelids. What could have happened in a week that made him look like this? Keith swallows back his words before they threaten to burst from his mouth. 

“You should follow me,” Lance continues. “We have to talk.” Without another word, Lance turns around and heads back into the Castleship. Keith and Acxa are sent scrambling to keep up. Despite his fatigued appearance, he’s still spry and energetic. 

“Where’s Shiro?” Keith asks as they climb the grand staircase. He should be the one to greet them. He should be the one Keith has a conversation with. They have so much to discuss. 

Lance winces and Keith’s fists clench. 

“We’ll talk in the lounge,” Lance grits out. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“We have a lot to talk about with you, too,” Acxa says, trying to tame the tension brewing between the two men. “We almost lost Larka.” Her attempt at dark humor doesn’t stir Lance in the right way. If anything, he stiffens. 

“Is your mother okay?” Lance asks. 

“Healthy as a horse,” Keith murmurs. “What about the team?”

“We’ve seen better quintants,” Lance comments, foreboding.

“I tried to call you all,” Keith says, “but I couldn’t get through.”

“We went without power for a few days,” Lance mutters absentmindedly. “Almost ran out of oxygen.”

“What?!” Keith whispers harshly. “You all should head to medical and get checked out.” 

“We took turns in the pods on our way back here,” Lance explains, the doors opening to the lounge with a delayed _woosh_.

Keith’s never seen the team look this beaten. Exhaustion covers everyone’s faces, save for Allura and Lotor who look healthy and bright. There are glowing Altean marks beneath their eyes, high on their cheekbones. For a second it seems normal. Allura has always had markings, but Lotor…this is unusual for Lotor. Pidge and Hunk lie on the couches, collapsed and fatigued with dark circles around their eyes. Coran sits beside Pidge, her feet in his lap and his head leaning against the back of the couch. His mustache is mussed from too much finger-twirling. Ryou stands near the holo-screen, pacing back and forth despite the pallor of his face.

Keith swallows harshly. “Where is Shiro?” 

Everyone looks up, a certain sallowness in their expressions. Queasy. Decimated.

“Keith,” Lotor says. Keith takes a step back. Lotor rarely calls him that. “I’m sorry.” 

Keith swallows again. Stonily, he asks: “Is he dead?”

Allura shakes her head. 

“No,” Lance says tersely. “He’s just been—”

“We were attacked on our way home,” Pidge begins. “Allura and Lotor were in Oriande which was hidden within a white hole. It messed with our communications, most of our power, the crystal…everything. When they finally got back and we finally fixed the auxiliary power, we could barely manage a counterattack, let alone leave Oriande’s space.”

“We were boarded just as we got moving,” Hunk adds. “They came out of nowhere.”

“But it’s like they targeted him,” Allura says worrying her lower lip.

“Shiro?” Keith prompts. 

“Yes,” Allura says. “They specifically targeted him.”

“Who?” Keith asks coldly. He feels Acxa’s hand encircle his upper arm, willing him to calm down. 

“Our only lead is Gnov,” Coran starts. “She’s the one who boarded us. You must understand that we were worn-out. We had finally gotten the ship operational. And then…” He trails off, almost nodding to sleep.

“You left him,” Keith grits out, staring right at Ryou. “We need to find a way to get Shiro back.” 

“I know,” Ryou states dryly. 

“We’ll track them down and we’ll find out the reason _he_ wants Shiro,” Lotor says confidently. 

“He?” Keith wants to strangle him. 

“Sendak,” Lotor answers.

“If it concerns any of you,” Keith says, passive-aggressive, “Sendak also blew up Marmora Headquarters.”

“What?” Allura nearly shouts. “Is everyone okay?”

“We just have some wounded,” Acxa answers. “Thankfully. Many were off base or were able to get to evacuation pods.”

“Tell us what happened,” Keith says. He wants to know if the price was worth it. “Tell us what happened in Oriande and we’ll share what happened in the Quantum Abyss.” 

Lotor’s eyes widen as he stiffens in his seat. 

_Good._

All Keith feels is a frosty anger. A cold encapsulating feeling that leaks from beneath his skin like a miasma. He listens with rage in his heart as Lotor and Allura explain about their brief time in Oriande. The long arduous hike to the temple, the empty civilization. Their separate duels with the White Lion, the phantasm that Lotor had been dreaming about for so long. The power and knowledge that they were granted. Allura allows Lotor a longer time to speak with the fact that his trial was much more difficult. He had fought against the Lion too many times, battling it like his life depended on it. He was evasive and repulsed by the idea that the creature was fighting him. He had gone there seeking knowledge, but he was met by a massive trial followed by another massive trial. He had been tired by the time he finally let the Lion embrace him. It was not done willingly, but a passive relenting emotion that traveled through Lotor. Allura’s own trial was much different, an easygoing event that happened once Allura accepted the Lion. Regardless they had both achieved Altean greatness in their own way. 

Despite the relief that started circulating in the room over their mission that had gone well, something was still awry. 

“I want to be different than my parents,” Lotor finally says. “My struggle was of my own making, much like many of the things in my life.”

His self-deprecation gets him nowhere with Keith. “You need to prove that, Lotor,” Keith pauses. “Larka is thinking about arresting you.”

Everyone suddenly looks alert, staring at Keith with surprise. Acxa uncomfortably slinks behind Keith. 

“What do you mean?” Allura asks. 

And so Acxa and Keith explain about their mission to the Quantum Abyss. From almost losing Larka after their ship was lost and then all the way to their reunification. Next to their time finding the Alteans, those on the Colony and those used as experiments. Lotor has the good sense to look ashamed, but his expression smooths out to a patient neutrality once more. Finally, Keith brings up Zarkon which confuses them all. Keith would admit it as well. Why Zarkon was way out there still confuses him, too. 

“I meant no harm,” Lotor says quietly. 

Keith scoffs. “That won’t work this time. Not only were those people sucked dry, but you kept it from us. After promising that you’d tell the truth!”

Lance begins pacing alongside Ryou.

Lotor’s cheeks flush as he stares down at the floor. He knows he’s outnumbered, especially with everyone warily looking back and forth between the two of them. 

“I stopped harvesting the quintessence after finding the second comet,” Lotor admits. “I knew it was wrong, but it was the only way to keep the Alteans safe after Honerva seemingly left them there abandoned.”

“And why did you abandon them?” Acxa pipes up. “Why leave all that work out there just for the second comet?”

“Because I realized that I could—”

“That you could create another Defender?” Acxa supplies. 

“Acxa—” Lotor starts, pained.

“Wait, what?” Keith asks, turning to Acxa.

“They’re not just ships that he made from the second comet,” Acxa says delicately. “We were building something like Voltron. Something that Narti, Zethrid, Ezor, Lotor, and myself could pilot similarly to Voltron. That’s what he was planning. That’s why he abandoned the Alteans.”

“H-how did you figure it out?” Lotor asks sourly. 

“It was difficult to uncover with how secretive you are,” Acxa answers. “But what could Lotor want more than anything? _Another Defender._ Something that can go up against your enemies that could rival Voltron in power and speed. Why else would you want machines that could traverse realities? We already have clean quintessence with Larka’s synthetic formula. You’ve got what you wanted. Oriande and Sincline.”

“We can use Voltron and Sincline together,” Lotor says softly. “They can work as a team. Something that can take out the remnants of the Galra not loyal to my sister. Mixed with the secrets that we know now thanks to Oriande…I—I could…I could heal Zarkon.”

Silence. 

“Are you officially out of your mind?!” Lance shouts, about to launch himself at Lotor only for Ryou to grab him. But even he is flexing the fingers of his prosthetic, itching for a fight himself. 

“Yeah…um…we’re still dealing with the fact that you lied to us,” Hunk stutters. “Again.”

“It wasn’t really a lie,” Lotor says. “I was just—”

“Keeping the truth from us?” Keith asks. “Yeah, that’s a lie.”

“Do you really think you can heal Zarkon?” Coran asks, suddenly awake, but perhaps he always was. 

“With this newfound power?” Lotor prompts, stuttering as he continues. “He’ll have to undergo clean quintessence treatments that I can purify from the synthetic formula, a detox so to speak. We wean him from it. Us Galra depend on quintessence naturally, so it won’t be a permanent fix. But he’ll be able to regain his old self. I can only hope with the magic I now possess…it may take a while, but I believe it can be done.”

Silence again. 

“I kept the Colony a secret from the Imperials and Blades because I thought it would be safer for them. I am sorry.”

Keith wants to believe him, but every time he lets Lotor in, the man lies. And Shiro was the price that Lotor payed for his time in Oriande. Keith can’t forgive him for that. Anguish stirs in his belly, but it evaporates at Allura’s next words. 

“Lotor, I will help you,” Allura states. “A procedure like this will be hard on you, even with this new power.” 

“Allura, you don’t have to help him—” Lance starts but is silenced by a brief look from Allura. 

“I appreciate your efforts, Princess Allura, but this is something I should do on my own…for my sister’s sake.” To save his own skin.

\--

The dungeon beneath the Fortress is dark and damp, buried deep underground. Honerva is held with green glowing bracelets and anklets. Her hair is combed back into a low chignon. For a moment, Keith can see the resemblance between Honerva and Larka. Hair swept back from their faces, high cheekbones. Eyes that can stare down a wild beast without wavering. Slender physiques built for agility rather than endurance. If only Honerva would stop waging war against those trying to help her.

Barefoot, his grandmother sits on an armchair, a book held in her slender hands. Her head is cocked to the side in mock appraisal as they file into the antechamber that views into her cell. It’s only Thace, Larka, and him, both his parents tense with the idea that they’ll have to talk to this woman. Keith feels for them, truly he does, but his mind is focused on one person. 

Shiro. 

He’s too worried to deal with something like this. He’s only here because of his obligation to his mother. He’d rather be boarding the Castleship and piloting it far away from Gal with the help of Ryou. Or boarding the Black Lion by himself.

“It’s a pleasure to see the three of you,” Honerva starts, softly closing her book. “I thought I would be getting the death penalty by now.”

Larka’s hands curl into fists before she releases them with a heavy sigh. “How are you doing here, Mother?”

“Larka…” Thace hums, a warning as if to say _don’t get too close_. 

Honerva spares Thace a momentary glance before her gaze falls to Keith and then Larka once more. 

“I’m doing well as it is to be expected,” she says, pursing her lips. “How is Allura doing?” Her voice is monotone, but the barb is there. Tangible, wishing to illicit a reaction from Larka. 

Surprisingly, Larka keeps it together. 

“Your trial will be within the month,” Larka says simply. “Do you wish to have someone assigned to represent you? I should mention we’re running low on lawyers these days.”

Honerva smirks mildly. “And what are the charges?”

“You tried to murder Allura,” Larka hisses. “Or has that slipped your mind as well?” 

“Not to mention the Colony and Zarkon have been found,” Keith adds.

Honerva blanches, eyes widening for a tick. “What?”

“Not only did we find him,” Larka continues, “but Lotor told Kythel everything. All your notes, experiments, _everything_.”

“Call me simple, but it seems you haven’t been able to figure out _everything_ , Larka,” Honerva says patiently. 

“You’re easier to read than you think,” Keith murmurs. “You’re still after what you did ten thousand years ago.” 

Honerva stills for a moment before slowly standing from her chair. She seems weary, wavering as she slinks closer to the glass that separates them. “Do not be upset with your brother. He is only obsessive with his interests.”

“Like you?” Larka asks. 

“Like you,” Honerva counters. “Did you go into the Quantum Abyss on your own or did you take others with you?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“It only interests me. Who was willing to sacrifice their lives for knowledge,” Honerva states. “But then again, isn’t that what Blades do? Knowledge or death?”

“Larka, we should go,” Thace murmurs. “You’ve told her what was needed.”

“You should listen to your husband, Larka,” Honerva says coldly. “Listen to someone for once.”

Keith grits his teeth. Honerva is trying to get under his mother’s skin and it’s only working too well. Even with all these new revelations that Honerva was in the wrong. In the blink of an eye, Larka teleports herself into Honerva’s cell. So sudden, Honerva is taken aback, scrambling backwards as Larka approaches her. 

“Larka,” Thace says threateningly, coming closer to the glass. “Get out of there now.”

Larka ignores him, pushing her mother into the farthest wall. But Honerva still stands firmly, her back pressed against the wall, looking up at Larka with wide eyes. 

_She’s whispering something to her,_ Keith notes as he watches Larka’s mouth move quietly. 

“Mama,” Keith says gruffly. “You need to get out of there. Now.”

She must finish what she’s saying because with a blink of his eyes, Larka teleports back out. The wispy residual threads of the black void cling to her clothing.

“Lotor is going to heal Father. I wish you’d come back to us, too,” she states simply as Thace grabs onto her upper arms and steers her from the room. Keith tosses a look from his parents to his grandmother and back again. Stunned at his mother’s deliberate move to threaten Honerva.

Honerva wavers for a moment, vulnerability leaking from her face. “Larka,” she calls out, stalling both her daughter and son-in-law. “Your father and I agreed to it. He wanted to be put in a sleep pod.”

Thace halts abruptly, almost giving Larka whiplash with the sudden movement. They slowly turn back around, Keith caught in the middle. 

“It was to protect him from Sendak’s ambitions,” Honerva continues. “He thought it was the best idea.”

Thace chuffs. “Then you should have trusted your daughter with that information. Everyone here knows you are Larka’s weakness. I won’t allow you to exploit it any longer.” And then he’s pulling Larka from the room, leaving Keith to level one last dark glance at Honerva and leave her behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this chapter clears up questions about who is getting a redemption arc <3


	13. Unknown

Allura weaves her way through the labyrinthine corridors of the science building. A cluster of students from the local academy have clogged half the hallway, cloistering themselves outside one of the lecture halls. She subtly squeezes herself between two aliens with lanky limbs and long torsos. They hunch over, taking up even more space than necessary. 

“Excuse me,” Allura squeaks, finally making her way down the opposite side of the hallway. A rush of warm air greets her as she nears Lotor’s private laboratory. The door slides open as she enters, only to reveal Lotor carefully slipping books into the nearest stack. 

“Ah, Allura, come to gloat?” he asks, a small smirk lifting a corner of his mouth. 

“You still haven’t lost any of your smugness despite this predicament,” Allura says frankly, slight disappointment lacing through her tone. 

Lotor slides another book into the next spot. “I could only react in such a manner.”

“What happened in here?” Allura asks, eyes roaming over the messy chamber.

“My dearest sister’s inquisition ran through here like a tumultuous storm.” Hands empty, Lotor scrubs one of them through his hair before tying it up in a bun with the spare ribbon wrapped around his wrist. Strands escape his hold, prompting Allura to snatch the ribbon from his hand. It takes a few grabs, but she finally clasps his hair into a high bun. 

“What brings you here?” Lotor asks, turning to watch as Allura twists her hands this way and that. 

“I—I wanted to help you with your endeavor,” she starts. Lotor makes a motion to say something but Allura raises her hand to stop him. “Wait a dobosh, I’m not finished…I think that it would be better for you—health-wise—if you allowed me to help, but I know that you won’t allow me that access.”

“This is on me,” Lotor states. “Allow me to follow through with this on my own.”

“It will leave you significantly drained, Lotor,” Allura murmurs. “You don’t know how long you’ll need to do the transfusions. Even with the newfound power.”

Lotor raises an eyebrow. “I can do it.”

Allura swallows, “I know you can. Which is why I have a request that I need you to follow through on.”

“And what’s that?” 

“I want to make it completely clear with you that I want Zarkon to remember _exactly_ what he’s done.”

Her words are greeted with silence. Lotor leans back on his heels, uncomfortable. 

“Allura…”

“You have to promise me, Lotor,” she whispers. “Promise me that he’ll remember. If this works, I doubt Larka will want a public hearing or even public punishment. She’s going to treat him like he’s been sick…but I don’t want that clouding her judgement. Please, make sure he remembers all the terrible things he’s done—not only to Altea, but to the Galra and the rest of the universe as well.”

“I promise,” he says, slow and even. “I promise I’ll do what I can. I’ll make sure he remembers.”

There’s a terseness in his tone, something sour and recalcitrant. Like he wants Zarkon to suffer just as much as she does. Something he probably disagrees with Larka on. Even if punishment isn’t granted, at least he’ll remember everything he’s done to the Cosmos. And only then would he be allowed to repent. Deliberate and without delay. 

“I promise,” he repeats, more resolved.

Thank you,” Allura grimaces, taking a step back just as the laboratory door slides open once more.

Lance traipses himself in, careful of the books and the few cracked datapads littering the floor.

“I’ve been looking all over for you two,” Lance says softly. Yet his eyes hold irritation. 

“Lance,” Allura drawls. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to remind you that the first meeting with the colonists is happening. Larka wants you there ASAP.”

“ASAP?” she asks. 

“As soon as possible,” Lotor answers. The two of them look over at him. “What? I’m familiar with Earthling colloquialisms. Kythel has taught me something.”

Lance mutters something under his breath but even with her near-perfect hearing, she can’t understand his words. She decides to talk to him in private. Something is bothering him, and she’ll find out. Later.

“Don’t forget about the meeting tonight, Lotor,” Allura says. “Larka wants to know all about your plans for this Sincline project.”

Lotor blinks, fixating his gaze back on the shelving unit in front of him. “Of course.”

Allura doesn’t think to look back as she leaves with Lance by her side.

~~

Not many people show up to the second meeting later that night. A few non-Marmora coalition members enter the amphitheater and just a few of the higher echelon of Marmora agents accompany them. People are either on missions or off-duty. Thankfully, Team Voltron has made an appearance. Keith settles closer to the throne at the center of the dais, desperate to catch a glimpse of his mother as she enters. She’s been at meetings all day with the colonists, only sparing time to eat a quick lunch with him earlier that day and see Akira a little after that. Anxiety settles in his stomach. He’s desperate to hear some of her wise words, see a tight-lipped smile, anything at all really. With Shiro missing in action, he feels a disconcerting feeling settle atop his shoulders. He should be out there right this dobosh, searching for him. Instead he’s now stuck in his own meeting that will take who knows how long.

A few moments later, Larka appears with Krolia and Romelle from one of the back doors flanked by two tall sentries. With the prospect of Honerva escaping, security has been alarmingly increased. His mother has not spent a moment without those two hulking scraps of metal trailing behind her with rifles poised in their arms. 

“Where’s Kolivan?” Ezor asks as everyone begins to settle into their seats, Zethrid sitting lazily at her side. 

Keith’s eyebrows lift.

“He is on a solo mission,” Larka says, not skipping a beat as she sinks onto her throne. A brief flutter of exhaustion wavers across her face before disappearing just as quickly. “He won’t be here today.” 

Her tone leaves no room for argument, but Keith can’t help himself. “What mission? I didn’t know anything about it.”

His mother swallows audibly before fixing her gaze on him. Her eyebrows furrow dubiously as she sighs. “It is a mission to find Shiro’s latest location.”

Keith sits up straighter at that. He’d be out of his seat if it wasn’t for Allura’s hand tightening on his knee. 

“Calm down,” she murmurs. 

No. He won’t calm down, not at this. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”

Larka gives him a silencing look, but she lets out another sigh before speaking again. “There’s a Marmora communication base near the outer rim of this quadrant that is rarely used. It was originally purposed for tertiary means after Communication Base Thaldycon was destroyed. He’s using that base to track Gnov’s frequency. Once he has obtained her location, he will report back.” Thaldycon seems like a lifetime ago. From the corner of his eye, he spots Ulaz shift uncomfortably.

“I should have gone with him,” Keith says, “or a team should have been prepared.”

“You can stay right here,” Thace chides. “For now.” 

“I—”

“He’s left, Kythel. Vargas ago, but he’ll report back once he’s tracked down Gnov,” Ulaz states lowly. 

Keith tries to ignore the roiling heat in his stomach, the flush in his cheeks at being scolded so frankly.

“Lotor,” Larka starts, “you will explain to everyone what your project is about. Do not leave anything out.”

Lotor clears his throat, stands from his seat before pacing towards her at the edge, addressing everyone. 

“As some may know,” he begins, “I’ve been working on a secret project. One to help Voltron and its coalition. There is too much going on in our universe right now for Voltron to handle everything alone. Just take a look at what happened to Marmora headquarters. Voltron was gone for one movement and Sendak had seized the opportunity to do significant damage to the home of many. Imagine that on a planetary level. We could lose civilizations.”

“Speak plainly,” Thace murmurs. “What is it that you want?”

“Clearance and oversight for my plans to continue building Sincline, a secondary defender for the universe.”

A low murmuring takes over and Keith catches Ezor’s uneasy gaze.

“Quiet,” Larka states softly. “How far are you along in your project?”

“Nearly finished and—”

“When were we going to tell us about this project?” Ulaz asks aloud.

Lotor grinds his teeth together. “Why do I feel like this is an interrogation, Larka?” 

“Because it is,” she replies. “I’ve given you plenty of times to tell the whole truth. And yet each time, you hold back. Why is that? Do you not trust us?”

“I trust _you_ ,” he states. 

Larka chuffs, turning her head to the side. “You’re quite unbelievable.”

Lotor curls his hands into fists before approaching the throne. The sentries make a move to intercept him, but Larka raises her hand to halt them in their loud steps. Lotor stops right at the bottom of the dais. “Having multiple mechs at our beck and call is important to the safety of our universe. I have pilots selected. And on that topic, it is imperative that we track down Narti.”

“According to Kythel’s visions, we will most likely see her soon,” Krolia murmurs. 

“And with that, Honerva will escape,” Larka rolls her eyes. “Don’t remind me. I’ll have to escalate security even more than I already have.”

“This is serious, I beseech you…I beg you to reconsider my project,” Lotor continues. “I know that I may have kept the truth from you, but Sincline can work. I can help save us from Sendak. You just…you just have to trust me.”

“Again…why should I?” Larka asks. 

“Because I’m your brother.”

“And you keep biting my hand.”

Keith can’t help but agree. How many chances do they give Lotor?

“I can oversee his project if it means that much to him,” Ulaz interrupts. “I’ll report everything back to you and Kolivan, as well as the paladins. As a parameter. He could be allowed to continue on with his research unless I think something inappropriate is happening.”

“Why would you do that, Ulaz?” Keith asks. 

“Because perhaps we need other defenders. We almost lost many lives at headquarters, including my own. If we hadn’t intercepted transmissions, I would be dead right now.”

Larka curls her hands over the edge of her throne’s armrests. Her eyes shift over to Keith. “Kythel, what do you think?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does. You’re next in line for the throne. Ancients, if something happens to me, you must take over. You must be concerned about this.”

He is, but his mind is almost entirely focused on Shiro’s disappearance. And the fact that Kolivan left without him. 

“I say, let Ulaz oversee Lotor’s plans. Have him work with Dorma and the scientists as well. Perhaps Solthro will help, too.” 

Larka nods tightly. “I agree.” 

“There will always be bad men in our universe. We need more defenders and you won’t regret this, Larka,” Lotor murmurs.

“See that I don’t.” 

Lotor retakes his seat and the meeting continues on. Larka formally introduces Romelle to the attendants as the elected representative of the Altean colonists. But yet again, as they start more introductions, Keith cannot focus on anything else but Shiro. They’ve always been able to find each other. Through cosmic dust and galaxies. But once again, the universe or destiny or some god has chosen to separate them once more. How could Kolivan just leave him behind, probably knowing full well that Keith would want to accompany him on this mission? Did his mother and Kolivan discuss this behind his back? Did his father reluctantly agree or did he want him to stay as well? What about Mick and Krolia? Were they all in on it? Perhaps he could sneak out. However, there was that minute detail dealing with the blasted guards! There’s no way he could sneak out, not with the guards Larka’s assigned to trail him hovering about. Even if he manages to slip them, they will no doubt tell his mother that he’s gone. And she’ll figure out the rest. But—

“I want to go after Kolivan.” 

The room grows quiet, a shattering silence, one in which he could hear a pin drop. He doesn’t even know what they’re talking about but all he wants…is Shiro back.

“Keith…” Hunk starts. 

Allura’s hand tightens on his knee again, but it’s Lance—on her other side—who speaks next. 

“The Empire needs you right now,” he mumbles softly, looking over at Keith. “Shiro would want you to remain focused until we know more.”

 _Patience yields focus._ Shiro’s words ring through his ears. _Patience yields focus._

But can he be patient when it comes to Shiro? Could he idly sit still as Kolivan tried to find some lead, while the coalition organized some sort of extraction team? Or would it be better for them to go out guns blazing with Team Voltron? Perhaps that’s what Sendak and Gnov want. Them—him—to be distracted.

Something clicks into place. Perhaps Lotor is right. They do need more defenders. 

“What if Keith becomes the black paladin in the interim?” Pidge pipes up. “Until we find Shiro.”

It feels like everything inside Keith stops. His heartbeat, the butterflies in his stomach, the clamminess against his palms. These are words that he’s been dying to hear. The fact that Team Voltron may still need him. He’s been with the Blade of Marmora for so long, but something in him still craves Voltron. Something deep inside of him still wishes to pilot Black. To feel the controls clenched his hands, to throttle back on the thrusters, to fly once more. 

It’s something so simple yet so unobtainable. But here Pidge is, dangling it in front of him like a piece of succulent meat. _Become the black paladin again._ Besides his muddled thoughts, the first thing he wants to say is _yes_. He wants to say it, plead with his parents to let him go despite him being old enough to make his own choices. He wants to have this discussion with Shiro—the way it was supposed to happen. A quiet conversation, a quiet day spent in bed, lazing about. He’d approach the topic swiftly, as swift as a blade against soft skin. Shiro would voice his own thoughts, claiming that perhaps it was too soon but would quickly agree with him. That perhaps it was alright for Keith to take over once more. It would be better for their family. 

Keith casts his gaze at Pidge before looking at the others, shifting in their own seats. He looks back at Pidge again, a coiled smirk on her face. Did she know what buttons she would be pushing by saying this? He rubs at his chest, trying to ease the tension radiating outwards. Heartache. That’s what this feels like. A throbbing sensation like no other, the reality that he is being pulled in so many directions. The Blade of Marmora or Team Voltron. He must choose. He can’t have both.

“Lance is right,” he finally says, nodding. “The Empire needs me right now, Pidge.” 

He looks towards his mother where she wears a sour expression on her face. Like…like she was testing him, and he came up too short. Too many failed responses and red x marks upon a page. Even Pidge looks mildly put out. He immediately wants to take his words back. He wants Voltron, no matter the cost. He needs Voltron to get Shiro back.

“What about the other defender.” He tries changing the subject. “What is it that the defender would do?”

Lotor looks back and forth between Larka and Keith, elated at the different topic. He knows there’s too much pressure in the amphitheater right now. 

“As I was saying,” Lotor begins again, “I wish to use Sincline to siphon clean quintessence into the synthetic quintessence pipeline. The raw yet refined quality of quintessence would be necessary to maintain Zarkon’s health.” 

Larka still looks at Keith, eyebrows furrowed. She reluctantly moves onto Lotor’s topic.

“Are you sure that would work?” she asks. 

Keith lets out a breath of relief and the pressure on his knee dissipates. Allura’s hand curls away to rest on her own lap. 

“I want to plan an expedition into the plane between realities, to test out this theory,” Lotor continues. “Of course it would be under Marmora’s supervision.”

The room is still quiet, the tension that was squandering had not yet left. Keith and Pidge’s words still hover in the air. Going after Kolivan and becoming the black paladin again. Keith shakes his head to free himself from those thoughts. But the tendrils keep clasping on. Tugging and tugging. 

“I volunteer to be a test subject,” Lotor says. “Allura and I were the first into Oriande in who knows how long. Allow me to venture into the plane on behalf of Father’s misadventures.”

The stillness is uncomfortable. Keith wishes he could be anywhere but here.

“I want the Altean Empire to be prosperous,” Lotor murmurs, almost too quiet.

Larka stiffens at that, eyes narrowing at Lotor’s words. “What?”

“There was no Altean _Empire_ ,” Allura almost stammers. “T-there never has been one.”

“But we could have one,” Lotor implores, searching his sister’s face for any sign that she’d allow this discussion to continue. Larka’s face remains stony. “Larka…”

“I vote for an integrated Empire of Altean and Galran citizens,” Keith blurts out. “That’s what we’ve been focused on. What difference does the name mean. Galra Empire, Altean Empire…we’re all one people. That’s all that should matter now.”

“My vote is with Keith. Galtean Empire all the way,” Pidge approves.

A murmuring starts up but immediately halts once Larka raises her hand again. “We agree to disagree, Lotor. I’m allowing you to continue on with your research with oversight. You may begin plans to enter the plane between realities, but you must wait for clearance after construction finishes. That should be enough for now, shouldn’t it?”

Keith watches as Lotor physically bites his tongue. 

“Of course.”


	14. History Maker

A haze of purple blankets over his field of vision. Swirls of mauve and magenta, whorls of violet and indigo. It blinds him, shades him in twinkling stardust and cosmic ether. The air smells tangy, like lemon juice and wood burning in an open fire. The scent percolates through the heady air, thick with desire and wonder. It’s a comforting smell, like a distant memory coming to the surface once more. Only to leave just as quickly. In the background, a looming black figure appears through a break in the purple light. It grows longer and longer, overlooked by a distance star. The air grows colder, a freezing climate unfamiliar to him. Like the northern regions of Earth and Daibazaal, or the southern provinces of Altea, or the mountainous ranges of Olkarion. Like space. So cold, a chill snakes into his bones. His teeth chatter.

Keith runs, more for the necessity of keeping warm than because of the entity before him. Nevertheless, he runs towards it, chasing through mists of periwinkle and slate blue. A dense fog that enraptures the senses, clouds his mind, threatens to overtake him. His teeth continue to chatter as he runs, arms pumping at his sides as he builds up speed. His thighs burn with overexertion. He just got back from a mission that has left him thin yet muscled once more, but right now, he only feels tired. Unused to this new body phoebs after childbirth.

From his location, he watches with glazed eyes as the figure turns around, running farther away from him as he gets closer. Keith stops, huffing and chuffing as he tries to ignore the stitch in his side. The figure stops, too.

Keith cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he watches the figure turn in circles and circles, attempting to get into a better position before lying down. He takes one step, then two, then three. The figure doesn’t move. If anything, the head drops to rest on outstretched paws. 

A bead of sweat drips down the back of Keith’s neck, slips into the valley of his spine before being wiped away by a stray hand. He turns around, ready to put space between him and this phantom limb. But he is surprised when he finds no one there. His forehead breaks out in a cold, nervous sweat. He is not alone here. Even with the figure before him. Something is playing with him.

Ignoring the sensation of being watched, Keith continues running. Rushing past clouds sparkling with stars and swatches of black vapor. Thick miasma smelling of lemons and fires rush around him. But he ignores it all, every distant memory every vague dream. He chases after the reclining figure, focused on this one purpose.

Vargas pass and he finally reaches a circle of crystals. Vibrant blues and deep violets, blossoming from the ground like porcelain blossoms. A field of juniberry flowers, resting within the circle, billow in the slight breeze. A light berry-like fragrance adds to the sharp lemon and smoky smell. Pink sand matches the pink flowers. It’s the only thing different than clouds of purple and black. 

He feels another hand on his back. But when he turns around, he only sees Black resting by his side, face turned up towards the distant star. He searches for some warmth in this chilly realm.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asks.

Black rumbles out a deep groan as he shifts positions. More relaxed, less influenced by Keith’s rapidly beating heart. Without thinking, Keith takes a step into the field of juniberry flowers. Everything is a blast of pink and blue hues. He’s taken aback by this new realm, awash with starlight and sweetness. Every land mass is made of blue and pink and lavender crystals, large chunks of gemstones that would make any man rich.

Keith knows this place, thoughts immediately flying to Lotor and Allura.

“This is Oriande,” Keith says aloud. He looks back for Black, only to see him standing behind him like a great sentinel. He remains unmoving. 

“Why are we here?” he asks, more to himself than to the Black Lion. 

The sound of a dull roaring overtakes his ears, threatening to burst his eardrums. On the horizon, he sees a spot of white—

Keith awakens, dripping in a cold sweat. His hand immediately searches out for Shiro’s form, but the other side of the bed is starkly cool against his clammy hand. He’s too lonely to admit it, but there is something that puts him at ease in this moment. He doesn’t know whether it is the fact that the Black Lion had visited him in his dreams or the fact that he saw Oriande for what it was. A dreamscape, an imaginative land that no doubt fueled Lotor’s goals. 

He swings himself out of bed, rummaging on an armchair for his stray clothing. He slips on a shirt and shucks himself into a pair of trousers before heading to the doorway leading to Akira’s room. She’s still sleeping soundly, a fleck of drool tracking down one chubby cheek. He reaches in, plucks her from the crib and she instinctively curls her small body against his chest. He takes a deep breath from her hairline, smelling the distinct smell of an infant, milk and mild soap. A sweet smell tickling his nose as she purrs gently in his arms. 

Keith rubs a hand down the length of her back, kisses her on the forehead as he bundles her up, and then leaves their connected chambers. It’s a long trek down to the Castleship’s landing pad. It’s still the early morning, the sky a dark navy bleeding into a pale blue and strawberry pink. The air is crisp and he wishes he had dressed more warmly, but at least he done better with Akira. There aren’t many people out around the airbase except for on-duty soldiers partaking in early morning pilot exercises and drills. The doors to the Castleship are open, signaling that someone must have left earlier. 

Regardless, Keith ventures inside, Akira stirring awake as he does. Her tiny yawn and little giggle make his cheeks flush; her puerile behavior makes his heart sing. 

He takes the long way down to the Lion Bays, heading down into the depths of the ship. When he enters the hanger, something inside his chest thrums, blending into the steady ache. He swallows thickly, hands nearly shaking around Akira’s small body. It’s as if all the Lions had somehow expected him. They don’t move, silent sentinels that they are, but their energy sharpens. The quintessence flowing through them reaches out, arching forward and swirling around him like some invisible force. He walks closer to the Black Lion, a phantom hand silently urging him on from behind. He knows no one is behind him. The only things in the hanger are the Lions, Akira, and him. But from quadrants away, he can feel Shiro’s large hand pushing him forward, caressing his shoulder, slipping down his arm to grab one of his hands as Keith readjusts Akira over to one side. 

She gaggles, cooing softly at the large presence. For a brief moment, Keith wonders when she’ll start speaking. Galra children often start speaking quite early, but she’s a little late. It doesn’t cause him to worry but he wonders if she understands the significance of the large beast in front of them. Keith draws closer before placing Akira on the ground in front of the Black Lion. It hums lowly as Akira crawls closer, growling softly as she presses one small hand against a gigantic paw. 

“I need you to help me find Shiro,” Keith says abruptly. He nervously tugs on his braid. He hasn’t asked much of the Black Lion, but when he always searched him out, it almost always had something to do with Shiro. Guilt spreads throughout his body. “There has to be a way for you to search out Shiro’s location, track his quintessence. You know him. He’s your pilot. Your paladin.”

Through their previous link, Keith can hear the Lion growl. A chiding noise that sets Keith’s teeth on edge. 

“Please. You must help me.”

“Keith?” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Keith, I’ve been looking for you.” 

He turns around to see Lance standing there, a forlorn expression on his face. Grief and his own guilt are plain to see. 

“I’m glad I found you!” he remarks. “I went by your room in the Fortress, but no one answered the door.”

“So, the logical thing to do was track me down in the hanger?” Keith asks, a small smile playing on his lips.

Lance shrugs bashfully. “Yeah.”

“Why were you looking for me?”

Lance crouches down, watching as Akira tries to climb the large paw. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Allura is tossing and turning, too. We were restless,” he prattles on. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you said at the meeting. I agree. You should have gone with Kolivan but…”

“But what?”

“I heard what you just said, too,” he says, gesturing to the looming Black Lion as it sits watchfully. “Shiro is more valuable to Sendak alive than dead. This is personal to Sendak. They have a long and strange history together. From the beginning. I’m sure Sendak sees a part of himself in Shiro.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith’s cheeks flush.

“Sendak couldn’t always have been the sadistic warlord he is today,” Lance continues. “Plus, he did save you and your mom that one time.” 

“Yeah, that one time,” Keith grits out. “The rest of the time, he’s been trying to kill us all. _From the beginning._ ”

“I’m not trying to argue with you,” he stands, raising his hands in defeat. “Like I said, I agree with you.”

There is a pause in their conversation as Lance looks to the Red Lion and back at Black before gazing at Keith. “I’m on your side, Keith, and that’s why I think you should become the black paladin again.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said.” Lance waves his hand. “And while I do agree that the Empire needs someone that is as stubborn and occasionally level-headed like you, I also know that we need you on the team. Shiro knows that. You’ve been the stay-at-home parent long enough, it’s time for you to get back in the field. In _our_ field. Zarkon was able to be an emperor and a paladin at the same time. You can, too.” 

Keith’s eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t know how long he waited to hear those words. That it was okay to be a part of two things, to carry on a legacy while building his own. 

“Sendak targeted the Marmora headquarters when we were away—while all of us were away,” Lance says. “We can’t allow him to do it again. We need to stop him. And Voltron challenging him will force him to back down. Either that or—”

“We kill him.” 

Lance nods. “Or that.”

“What about Lotor?” Keith asks. “I know you’ve had it out for him since he switched sides.”

“I still don’t fully trust him,” Lance sighs. “But Allura seems to trust him and I trust her judgement. So as far as I’m concerned, we’re allies.” 

At that tick, Allura comes in—dressed in white leggings and a loose tunic—from her early morning jog. She’s wiping her forehead with her sleeve, sweat staining the fabric. 

“I saw that the doors to the hanger were open,” Allura says, breathless. “What are you all doing in here?” She spots Akira on the floor, still trying to hoist herself up on to Black’s paw. She grins, rushing over to scoop Akira off the ground and hold her close. Belligerent and upset that her task is incomplete, Akira squirms and chuffs softly.

“We were just—”

“We were just discussing the last coalition meeting,” Lance interrupts, covering for Keith. 

Grateful, Keith tosses him a smile. “Mostly about Lotor and a bit about Sendak.” _Yes, not at all about me becoming the black paladin._

Allura gives them both a knowing look, swaying a disgruntled Akira in her arms. “Well, I just heard from a soldier, who was jogging, that Kolivan’s cruiser just landed across the base. He’s heading to the Fortress now.” 

\--

There’s a small group gathering in one of the Fortress’ lounges by the time Keith, Akira, Lance, and Allura enter. Hunk and Pidge had somehow gotten there ahead of them. Hazar looms in behind them as they enter, followed by Thace and Ulaz. Kolivan, Larka, Krolia, and Mick are already there, curled up in front of the indoor fireplace. They stand as the others enter.

“What happened?” Keith asks immediately.

“I’ve just returned,” Kolivan says. “I’ve managed to track down Shiro’s location.”

Keith lets out a deep breath, relief flooding through him. “And?”

Kolivan sighs, “While I was at the communication base, I was able to track down information about Gnov’s ship and where it was heading, but I have returned with information that I had not bargained for.”

Sourness seeps into Keith’s belly and he clutches Akira close.

“What happened?” Larka asks softly. “What did you learn?”

“There was a skirmish between Ranveig and Sendak,” Kolivan replies. “The location that Shiro has gone in is Ranveig’s territory, now owned by Sendak.”

“Oh man,” Hunk groans. "What now?"

“What happened to Ranveig?” Thace asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s either in Sendak’s prison or he’s been executed by now,” Pidge supplies. 

“I don’t doubt the words of the green paladin,” Kolivan says. 

“What caused the skirmish?” Krolia asks.

“I was able to hack my way into Sendak’s security system, but I wasn’t able to find out the cause of their argument, only that Gnov returned to find Sendak in control and Ranveig ousted. Whatever happened…the footage has been deleted.”

Keith nervously tongues the inside of his cheek.

“But that has to at least be some good news,” Lance starts. “We know where Shiro is now.”

“This is true,” Kolivan says, “but we also now know that Sendak is consolidating power. He might try and fight Larka for the throne if he’s overthrown all other competitors.”

“That is a bridge we’ll have to cross when we come to it,” Keith finally says. “For now, we need to focus on getting Shiro back.”

“I agree,” Kolivan says quickly. “Which is why we will need Voltron.” 

“Before we get to that, I also have news,” Hazar says. “As we all know, the green paladin’s family has been stationed on Olkarion. I have just received word from Matt and Solthro that the delegation sent to Earth has reached out to them.”

Keith lets out a breath of relief. It had been a while since they heard from Umaala and the others. 

“And what have they said?” Ulaz asks.

“Training the resistance and the liberators on Earth is going well,” Hazar begins, “but they are requesting more fighters.”

“You should contact your family,” Allura murmurs to Lance.

“Why do they need more coalition members?” Krolia asks. 

“Shouldn’t they be safe?” Larka straightens up by the fireplace. 

A pained expression sweeps over Hazar’s face. “The resistance has been getting readings that there have been Galra vessels positioning themselves outside of Earth’s solar system.”

“Where?” Keith asks, déjà vu swirling about him. “Where are they positioning themselves?”

“Near Kerberos,” Hazar answers knowingly. 

A tension from the paladins echoes in Keith’s own chest. His hands shake and he hastily gives Akira over to Thace. 

“What else are they doing?” Mick asks carefully.

Hazar inclines his head. “It seems the Galra are sending probes into Earth’s space, provoking their security protocols and defenses.”

“We should have installed encapsulation shields around the planet,” Larka murmurs. 

“It’s too late for that,” Hunk says. “We’re just gonna have to work with what we have right now.”

“That’s not all. Solthro had sent Iverson to Earth, prior to the Galra stationing themselves on and around Kerberos. He has since returned to Olkarion, however he had problems leaving Earth space after the Galra arrived. It will be difficult getting our men in,” Hazar says, turning to Lance. “You should indeed contact your family. Make a direct line of communication just in case they’re attacked. It wouldn’t do Team Voltron any good if their only point of contact with you is through Olkarion.”

“Why are they probing Earth’s defenses?” Thace asks. 

“And who exactly is doing the probing?” Mick inquires. 

“I’ll give you three guesses who it could be,” Krolia says, smug.

“Sendak.” Nearly everyone murmurs the name. 

“Exactly.” 

“He’s becoming more of a nuisance than anything else,” Kolivan says. 

“A nuisance that almost wiped out the Blade of Marmora.” Ulaz clarifies the power that Sendak wields. 

“Well then I guess it’s settled,” Lance starts. Everyone turns to him, curious. “We’re going to need Voltron and that means we need the black paladin. For these missions, Keith is going to have to pilot the Black Lion.” 

Keith’s mouth drops, agape at Lance’s crassness. Lance has always struggled with tact but telling everyone in this way puts too much pressure on Keith. He tongues at the inside of his cheek again. Everyone is staring at him expectantly. A knowing smile curls on Larka’s face. She inclines her head, slowly nodding. 

_She’s giving me her blessing,_ Keith thinks. He swallows carefully around the ball of heat building in his throat. His fingers tense at his sides and he lifts his chin. 

“I’ll do it.”


	15. Crossing Over

The last place Larka expects to be is stuck in her brother’s laboratory on a warm sunny day. Autumn is just on the brink of claiming the season for itself which would make way for a rather harsh winter. Despite her love for science, the last place she wants to be is in a humid laboratory crammed with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and overheating pieces of lab equipment and computers. 

Voltron had left that morning, back into deep space, with Keith at the helm. Nervous butterflies flutter in Larka’s belly. She is happy that the boy has finally made up his mind, but she couldn’t help the motherly instincts she felt towards him and Akira. Perhaps it was because she didn't get those precious moments that she wanted with him, or maybe it was for a far more selfish reason. His safety was paramount, but she knew he wouldn’t sit still with Shiro in Sendak’s grasp. She would have done the same for Thace…or Krolia…or Mick. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lotor’s voice drowns out the pervasive thoughts ruminating in her mind. “Your face is flushed.”

Larka’s cheeks stain darker. “It’s nothing.”

Lotor gives her a knowing look. “He’ll be fine. How many times has he done this?” 

“He hasn’t piloted the Black Lion for a while,” Larka says, thankful that her brother can’t read her thoughts. “I’m just nervous is all.”

“I’m sure,” he says, fiddling with another piece of equipment. “Can you go in the icebox and get me the vial of synthetic?”

Larka hurries to the refrigerator, cheeks still flushed as she delicately picks up the corked vial of green glowing synthetic quintessence. 

“What are you testing for?” Larka asks, handing him the container. 

He uncorks it and pours it into the waiting machine. “Just routine, operational diagnostics. Your formula is superb, but once we siphon the clean quintessence, we’re going to have to find a way to refine it together.” 

“I thought we would use it separately,” Larka remarks, head cocked to the side. 

“We could,” he says as the machine chugs to life, emitting a low belching noise as it works. He picks up the small see-through datapad by its side and tabs it on, watching as the filtration and refining bars shrink and grown and finally plateau. “But why do that when we can combine forces.”

Larka bites her tongue, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I thought we weren’t going to do any mad scientist moves.”

“Of course not,” Lotor takes a brief look at Larka. “But we’re going to need to think outside the box. Using them both at the same time can bring forth different possibilities.” 

Another pause. 

“Like I said, sister,” he continues. “Your synthetic quintessence project is superb and provides us with a clean energy alternative, but this would give us a pure source, highly concentrated. The things we’ll be able to provide with _this alternative_ are immense.”

“If I try to stop you, you’ll only figure a way around me,” Larka grumbles. “I might as well keep an eye on you.”

“I thought that was Ulaz’s job,” he smirks as the levels fluctuate again before leveling.

“He’s not here right now. I am.”

Lotor lets out a deep sigh. “If it’s any consolation, my plan will help Father through his detox therapy. Isn’t that what you want?”

It’s Larka’s turn to sigh. Lotor has always had a way with stringing words together and capturing anyone who is listening. He ropes people into his designs, forcing them to see things his way. Unfortunately for him, Larka already knows these things about him. But…he is right. Cleansing their father with the cleanest source of quintessence might be the only way to adversely effect what has tainted him for so long. Fuel of highly concentrated quintessence and a synthetic brand to recode how his body takes in the energy source. To wean him from what he’s been addicted to for ten thousand years. 

“It will be a difficult feat,” Larka says. “But if this is what is for the best, then I’m with you on this.”

Lotor tosses her a lazy smile. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Larka, tense and waiting for his double-speak, leans back from the almost affectionate tone he sends her way. She’s unused to this. Perhaps this is what Lotor is like when he gets his way, kind and wholesome and friendly. Not recalcitrant and scheming. Larka misses what her baby brother was like before, before the war and the lying and conniving betrayals. She’ll take this Lotor over anything else. And for once, they are getting along. 

“I never got to properly say something,” Lotor starts again, placing the datapad down next to the chugging machine. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry you almost lost your life in the Quantum Abyss,” he continues. “If I had known you were heading into that maelstrom, I would have given you ships and the necessary technology to navigate that treacherous void.”

Larka doesn’t know what to say so she stays silent. How many times had he heard the story about their time in the Quantum Abyss now? How long has he heard that they could have died, that she could have died if it wasn’t for her restoring magic? If she hadn’t practiced so hard at being a druid…

“It’s nothing,” Larka says, desperate to change the topic. “Accidents happen. And speaking of accidents…what if we accidentally made a third defender.”

“For what?” Lotor looks at her with a peculiar expression upon his face. 

“Earth.”

“What is with you and that planet? Why is it so important?”

Larka looks at him plainly. “Not only was my son raised on that planet, but so were the rest of the paladins. It’s an important place.”

“Oh, yes,” Lotor smirks. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with your second husband?”

“Second husband?”

Lotor tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “A gourdlox with ten eyes can see what’s happening to your quartet.”

“You speak too loosely,” Larka chides. 

“And the four of you are two obvious with your affections,” Lotor says. “You should be careful about that. If Sendak happens to find out about the four of you, he’ll try to use them against you. He’s already jealous of Thace as it is.”

Larka’s cheeks burn and she curls her fists together. 

“But!” Lotor starts. “I don’t think there is a problem with what you’re saying.”

“You don’t think it would defeat the uniqueness of Voltron?” Larka asks.

Lotor shakes his head. “If we can make more than one mech, there would be more than one defender when Voltron is busy. Voltron can still be the face of the revolution, of the resistance and the coalition. No one can take away the myth that is Voltron. It will just have Sincline and a handful of others as back up.”

At least the two of them were on the same page. 

“I’ll make orders for the ruins of Daibazaal to be secured. We’ll have a temporary pipeline and a portal constructed in the meantime, something maneuverable. We can even start planning out a team to enter the inter-reality plane once the second defender is complete.”

“You would do that?” Lotor asks, ecstatic. “You would do that for me?”

Larka nods. “But there are others who may not agree with this…”

“They’re your family,” Lotor says. “You can convince them, get them to come around, right?”

“They’re your family, too. You should put in the effort to include them in these decisions.”

Before Lotor can say much of anything else, the diagnostic completes and they both read—with Larka looking over his shoulder—the results on the datapad. For the next varga, they run diagnostics on nine other batches of chilled quintessence. They run another test on an old storage icebox filled with white-blue concentrated quintessence. Once completed, they begin their first experimental test on combining the energies. The first time they try this, they nearly blow up a portion of the lab. The second time they try, the two energy sources slip around each other like oil and water before brilliant white-blue attacks glowing green. They finally meet their dead end. 

“What if we tweak around the synthetic formula?” Larka asks. 

“Perhaps, but—”

Lotor stops just as the door to his lab opens revealing Ulaz flanked by Dorma and Colleen. Ulaz has a hard expression on his face while Dorma and Colleen both look equally tired. The two women had been stationed on Olkarion for a while. It’s unusually for them to just make an appearance without calling ahead.

“What’s wrong?” Larka immediately asks. 

Dorma raises her hand. “Nothing too serious.”

“If you call our security measures not too serious,” Colleen jokes.

“What do you mean?” Larka asks. 

“Go on, tell her,” Ulaz urges, underbite jutting out in mild irritation. 

“Some of our signals have been randomly getting jammed,” Dorma says. 

“Ryner thought it was kind of unusual at first,” Colleen adds. “Their technology is different than your own. And especially to that of ours on Earth. It's been our secret weapon on Olkarion.” 

“But now it has increased in frequency,” Dorma continues. “There’s also been an increase in radio chatter with non-coalition members. We keep picking up random conversations.”

“What kind of conversations?” Lotor asks sourly. 

“Talks about attacking the Voltron Coalition.”

Larka gnaws on her lower lip. Did Sendak find out so quickly that Voltron was coming after him? Did he send his lackeys scrambling to pursue and attack? Or were they doing this on purpose? Leaking their plans to set them all on edge. 

“I believe there will be another attack soon,” Ulaz states. “It could be on Olkarion or on any other of our coalition outposts. We should plan accordingly, especially with Voltron out in the field.”

“Have everyone’s encapsulation shields primed and ready to activate at a moment’s notice,” Larka says to Colleen and Dorma. She then turns to Ulaz. “Report to Kolivan. He should still be leading a small meeting at the amphitheater.”

Ulaz nods turning to leave. There’s a rustling at the door, but Larka ignores it in favor of looking at the other women. “The two of you should take a break. You’ve done well.” 

Colleen and Dorma say their good-byes before leaving right after Ulaz. 

“And this is why I need to lead an expedition into another reality while the others go on their mission for Shiro,” Lotor says. 

“Why?”

“We need to be ready on all fronts.”

“Keep focusing on Sincline and Father,” Larka murmurs. “That sort of trip would take extensive planning, not a spur of the moment discussion. We’ll need all hands on deck for a mission like that with Voltron overseeing—”

There’s more rustling at the door, fabric dragging against metal and Larka and Lotor turn to see Romelle standing there. 

“Oh! I’m sorry! I just was walking by!” She pauses. “I’m on a tour right now! And I kind of got lost!”

Lotor raises his white eyebrows before rolling his eyes, not believing a word she’s saying. 

Larka’s eyebrow raise. “One of my son’s fathers has this Earthling saying, _Curiosity killed the cat_.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Romelle finishes. Larka’s eyebrows raise further. “Sorry, I’ve been spending time with the green paladin.”

Larka’s eyes narrow. “What brings you here?” 

“I just couldn’t help but overhear: you have plans to go into another reality? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“That’s why we’ll be taking a long time planning this mission. It will be extensive and arduous, but it should go well if we have all these pieces together in one place,” Larka tries to explain.

Romelle nods, sending a glare at Lotor before looking back at Larka. 

“What if it’s Honerva that wants to go into the other realities,” she says suddenly. “What if you’re just following through with her plans?”

Larka’s blood runs cold, and she stiffens at the thought. Honerva is planning on escaping. Is she planning on taking Lotor with her? Any of the information they’ve gathered on quintessence since? Larka had increased guards on her mother’s cell and patrols around the city. What else would she have to do to ensure the safety of her family and her people? 

“I’ll need proof, Romelle,” Larka says. “I’ll need substantial proof.”

“Larka, you aren’t going to actually believe her?” Lotor sputters. 

“Like I said,” she starts. “I’ll need proof.”

Something crosses over Romelle’s face, resolve, hardened resolve. Like she’s made some sort of progress in finally coming to Larka and now needs the next step. Larka’s mouth runs dry. How long had the girl been waiting to tell her this? Romelle apologizes again, promising to see them later as she runs after her tour group. 

Lotor wraps a hand around Larka’s upper arm and tugs. “You’re not going to actually believe this nonsense. I’m not being controlled here. And—”

“I don’t think you’re being controlled. But I could be, Lotor. We don’t know what Mother is really after, nor do we know what she’s capable of. Let’s just keep our focus on the future for now.”

She tries to scrub away Romelle's words as she helps Lotor prepare the laboratory for Zarkon’s detox therapy. But the girl’s words still haunt her.

~~

It feels strange to be sitting on the bridge of the Castleship, in Shiro’s seat. Ryou keeps sending him furtive glances over his shoulder from his place by Coran’s side. At Pidge’s piloting seat, she and Hunk are whispering about something he can’t hear. Then there’s Allura and Lance, who seem placid and calm, like nothing has changed and this is just any average day on the Castleship.

Keith’s idly taps at the armrests of his seat. It’s not any average day. There’s something different about today and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s sitting here. Nope, not one bit. 

“You alright?” Allura asks from his side.

She’s left her dais and had quietly sidled up beside him to lean against one of the armrests. Keith takes one look at the expansive blackness outside the window, before turning to Allura. 

“Is it Akira or…?” she trails on.

Keith shakes his head. “No.”

“Then what is it?” Allura asks. 

Keith takes a look around the room. Coran and Ryou are at the front console, tapping idly at the machine, their backs to them. Lance has gotten out of his seat to amble towards Hunk and Pidge who look deep in thought. Everyone is distracted, caught in their own issues and problems that they need to sort out. Most of it work related, but here he is entirely too focused on the easiness percolating through his chest. The fact that they are one step closer to finding Shiro and not knowing what to expect. 

“I’m just nervous about piloting Black again,” he muses aloud. “We didn’t do a flight test and I’m just worried he won’t bond with me.”

“You were able to bond with him once before,” Allura says. “You can do it again.”

“What happens after we find Shiro?” Keith asks. “Do we go back to doing what we were before? Does he take over again? How do—”

“Keith,” Allura lets out a sigh. “I think that you should lead Voltron for a while. We don’t know what to expect once we get Shiro back. He might have to take a step back from leadership. But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. Like always.”

Allura’s brows furrow. “That’s not all is it?”

Keith shakes his head. 

“You’re worried about being prince, about one day being Emperor and having to lead Voltron?” 

“How long do we do this for? Until we’re all old and gray?”

“For however long the universe needs us,” Allura states, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “I worry about it myself, but we have to keep moving forward. We’ve been able to come this far.”

Keith nods tightly.

Everything will work out. He just must have patience. 

“We’ve got trouble,” Pidge says aloud. 

“What?” Coran asks. 

“I’m getting a video transmission coming in,” Pidge explains. “I’ve been trying to decode it and I think I finally got it. Want me to put it on the big screen?”

“Please do, Pidge,” Allura replies. 

Pidge taps against her screen and then the large holoscreen against the glass window pixelates. Gnov’s face forms across the screen, her wide ears twitching softly, her strange hair and sideburns curled forward. Her yellow eyes glow angrily with her brows furrowing. If they couldn’t see her face, she’d cut a rigid, dark silhouette across their screen. 

“Greetings, paladins,” she says gruffly. “It seems we have much to talk about.”

For a tick, Keith thinks it’s live and that she’ll give him an opportunity to speak, but her recording keeps talking. 

“Meet me on Planet Z-1-33 in the next quadrant.”

“What’s Planet Z-1-33?” Ryou asks aloud.

“Searching for it now,” Pidge replies, fingers tapping fast across her keyboard. 

“We’ll be able to have a conversation without being listened to,” she says. “I hope to see you soon.”

The video pixelates again before disappearing altogether. 

“Pidge,” Keith murmurs. “Where is that planet?”

She wipes away the sweat gathering on her brow before looking back at him. “None of you are gonna like this, but that planet is in the heart of the Fire of Purification territory.”


	16. Planet Z-1-33

“We’ll have to go in by stealth,” Hunk says as the Castleship rests at the perimeter of the Fire of Purification territory. “We should load up into the Green Lion and use her.”

“We’re going to have to come to this meeting with strength,” Lance counters. “We should take all the Lions. Form Voltron and take back Shiro.”

“I haven’t even acclimated to Black yet,” Keith says, leaning against the back of his pilot seat aboard the bridge. “What if we struggle to form Voltron.”

“We shouldn’t go to this meeting. Period.” Ryou’s arms are across his broad chest, his square jaw working tensely. “We can find some other way to get Shiro back.”

“We don’t have time for something like that,” Pidge says abruptly. 

“I second that,” Coran pipes up. He’s been quiet for most of the discussion. “Time is being wasted just arguing over a plan.”

“So, we should just go out there? Guns blazing?” Hunk asks. 

“Maybe that would work,” Lance states.

“We shouldn’t meet with Gnov.” Ryou begins pacing in front of Keith. “She’s untrustworthy and the reason Shiro is missing in the first place. It’s not like we need her to get to Shiro anyway.”

“She could have him aboard her ship,” Allura finally says, arms crossed over her chest as well. “We won’t know anything until we take this chance. 

Ryou scoffs aloud.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Allura says. “I know you know how the Galra operate from your time with them, but this is a lead we can’t avoid if we want to get Shiro back.”

Silence fills the chamber and for a moment Keith thinks Ryou might retaliate, but instead he stops his pacing. 

“Fine,” he says, disgruntled. “But the moment something goes wrong, I’m pulling all of you out of this meeting.”

“Good,” Allura says. “At least that is settled, but there something more important. We can either handle this as a stealth mission or go in _guns blazing_.”

“She’s expecting us,” Pidge adds. “Perhaps she won’t have the Fire of Purification attack us.”

“She has no incentive to keep peace between us either,” Keith grumbles. “We need to take necessary precautions.”

“Stealth mission it is?”

“No, Hunk,” Allura answers. “I think we need the extra fire power. We’ll take all the Lions and it will give Black and Keith time to readjust.”

So that is where they leave Ryou and Coran—on the perimeter of the Purification territory. Each of the paladins load up into their Lions. Keith takes the extra time to prepare himself mentally. It’s been so long, that being reunited with Black sets his teeth on edge. He walks into the cockpit, waits as the seat maneuvers to accept him, and climbs in. 

“Keith, you okay?” Pidge asks, voice streaming through the communication link. 

Keith nods. “Yeah, just a bit nervous.” He places his hands on the controls and the lights immediately churn on, illuminating the cockpit in a light purple glow. The screens light up next, holographic controls turning on and projecting against the dashboard. 

“Well, don’t be,” Lance says. “Nothing bad has happened so far.”

“I still think that we should be using stealth.”

“Hunk, don’t worry about it. We’ve done worse things than this.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” 

Keith turns on the auxiliary power and Black hums lowly, a soft melody that feels and sounds so familiar. It reverberates in his bones. He senses the connection—the connection to Black, to Shiro, and even to Zarkon. An old and ancient thrumming from a time long ago when Zarkon had barked orders with a smile on his face rather than the frown he had come to wear for ten thousand years. 

“You all just be careful,” Ryou says softly, so unlike his usual brash tone. “And remember to keep your bayards at the ready.”

“Will do,” Keith toggles on more controls before gently pressing on the thrusters. He hears the familiar whirring and hollow growl and then he’s flying. Zooming out from the hanger with the other Lions hot on his heels. 

“Let’s do this, Black,” he whispers. The Lion roars, a dull noise permeating the back of Keith’s head. He grips the controllers, toggling forward gently. In his peripheral vision, he can see the other Lions remaining in a slight V-formation. 

“You’re doing well, Keith,” Allura hums happily. 

Keith is equally shocked at how easy it is picking up something that he thought he had lost. It’s like Black remembers him, the way he moves, the way he pilots, the way he thinks. He’s remembered everything about Keith and something warm swells in his chest. He hasn’t been forgotten. Black has immediately recognized him.

They enter deeper into Purification space, but Keith hadn’t been expecting it to be such an empty region. Every so often they encounter an old dilapidated base or a war-torn installation. But they aren’t manned by much and Keith bets there are more sentries than there are organic-based soldiers. Regardless, Sendak’s reach is immense. It could rival the coalition’s territory.

“When the Empire shattered,” Keith starts, “he must have taken the territory that my mother didn’t.”

“Who?” Hunk asks. 

“Sendak. He must have taken Zarkon’s outposts…the ones my mother didn’t take back.”

“Well, maybe we can regain them,” Pidge states.

“Maybe.”

Six doboshes pass and they fly by another abandoned outpost and then another and then another until they happen to spot a large sandy yellow planet above them. 

“Planet Z-1-33 at your zenith,” Pidge says into the communication link. “My scans have shown that Gnov’s cruiser is sitting on a small continent in the northern hemisphere. Should we touch down?”

“Yeah,” Keith responds, becoming the leader of the Lions and their paladins again. “I don’t think they’re expecting the Lions, but do not engage. This is a recovery mission.” 

“Copy that,” the other paladins say in unison. 

It takes them another six doboshes to enter the planet’s atmosphere and another two doboshes to find their way to the small continent in the northern hemisphere. The sun in the distance shines brightly on the desert planet and Keith immediately knows he doesn’t want to stay on this world longer then necessary. A sandstorm could sweep through and they’re on unknown territory.

“Remember,” Keith starts again, “do not engage with Gnov. We’re here for Shiro. Let’s hear her out and get the hell out of here.”

The team spots Gnov’s small cruiser resting out in the open desert. A cluster of sand kicks into the sky as the five Lions touch down, their great paws sinking into the fine grains. 

“I’m going to hate this,” Lance bemoans.

“Same,” Hunk hums. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Allura says as the five of them exit the Lions, meeting up on a plateau of brown rock and yellow sand. “Keith’s right. We’re just here for Shiro. Then we can leave.”

“What if she doesn’t give us Shiro?” Pidge asks. “She says we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about how she incapacitated us.” Lance’s hands fidget, desperate to hold his rifle. 

Keith narrows his eyes. “Lance, I want you back here.”

“What?” Lance warbles, eyes widening. 

“Have your bayard ready,” Keith continues. “You’ll be in an advantageous position if anything goes wrong. The rest of you are with me.” 

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Hunk asks. 

“Yes,” Keith murmurs. “I’m sure she’s ready to double cross us. We’re not going to be the ones who lose if she decides to break our peace agreement early.”

Keith clenches his fists. Gnov wanted to talk to them without being overheard. Did that mean that she was acting without Sendak’s expressed permission? Did Sendak even know that Gnov was here? 

“Alright,” Lance interrupts Keith’s thoughts. His bayard appears in his hand before transforming into his rifle. “I’ll wait up here. Keith just give me a signal if you want me to engage with the enemy.” 

Keith nods tightly. 

In the distance, the doors to Gnov’s shuttle cruiser open and a few figures come pouring out. As Lance begins to set up, the rest of the paladins descend from the plateau and walk steadily towards Gnov and her men. 

“Do you see Shiro?” Pidge asks.

Keith squints but doesn’t see him. Only Gnov flanked by a few soldiers. 

“No,” Allura answers instead. 

After trudging in the deep sandy terrain, they finally stop when they are six feet away from Gnov and her group. 

“Greetings,” she says, a sly smile upon her face. “You must be the paladins of Voltron.”

“And you must be the woman who kidnapped Shiro,” Pidge retorts angrily. 

Gnov inclines her head. “This is going to be a peaceful negotiation.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Keith says. “Where’s Shiro?” 

“You can have him,” Gnov answers, her ears twitching. “But for a price.”

Keith’s breath hitches in his throat. He was afraid of that. 

“Name it,” he murmurs darkly. 

Gnov’s smirk widens, looking foreign and wily. “For your precious Paladin Shiro, I require Princess Larka and Prince Lotor.”

Chaos breaks out, a muttering from his team as Gnov’s words are met with negative answers. 

“Absolutely not,” Allura’s voice rings out. “We won’t do that. That’s out of the question.”

“Does Sendak even know you’re here?” Keith asks. 

Something stirs throughout Gnov’s face and Keith doesn’t think Sendak quite knows what Gnov’s up to. 

“It’s a simple price,” Gnov continues, gaze riveted as she looks at Keith. “I could add in Kythel for that matter. The entire line of succession, including—”

“Are you threatening us?” Pidge asks. 

“As I said,” Gnov says, raising her hands in mock-defeat, “it’s a simple price. Larka and Lotor for Kythel’s mate.”

“And as I said, absolutely not.”

“You give us Shiro, or we take him from you,” Keith says. Tension rises throughout the small group. Keith’s hands itch for his own bayard. To use his Marmora blade with his bayard in tandem. At the enemy across from them, the sentries and soldiers look like they’re also eager to point their weapons.

“Where is the fifth paladin?” Gnov asks suddenly, ears twitching again. “I see five Lions but only four paladins.”

“He’s in his Lion,” Hunk answers. 

“I think not,” Gnov says. “Guards!”

There is the sound of whirring weapons, ready to be fired. 

“I gave you my ultimatum,” Gnov continues. “Take it or leave it.”

Keith’s bayard materializes in his hand and a second later a plasma bullet rockets through the air, striking one of the soldiers in the head. 

_Good one, Lance,_ Keith thinks. Keith strikes just as the other paladins unleash their own weapons. But Keith is already too focused on what’s in front of him. Gnov’s smirk and the fact that Shiro isn’t here. Before he can reach her, a sentry moves in between them. Keith doesn’t hesitate striking it, blade thwacking across its cuirass. Wiring spews out like bands of blood. It falls to the ground, but he already sees Gnov with her gun raised at him. Before he can throw his sword, Lance shoots another bullet, targeting Gnov’s upper arm. With a hiss, she releases the gun, hand immediately clamping on the wound gushing blood down her uniformed arm. Pidge’s green grappling hook flashes out, striking at Gnov’s feet before wrapping around them and dragging her to the ground. She spasms as an electrical shock ricochets through her body, debilitating her instantly. Allura and Hunk are dealing with three soldiers and quickly gaining the upper hand as morale breaks and they bring down one after another. 

In the distance, Gnov’s cruiser is powering up, readying for lift off. Her eyes widen as she looks over her shoulder. They’re leaving her and she’s in a stupor, energy sapped as Pidge sends another high-voltage shock through her body. Keith straightens up, parrying a soldier’s weapon before dodging, rolling, and spearing him through the back. He goes down without a fight and Keith turns to Gnov. 

“Did you have Shiro with you or not?!” 

Wordlessly and with wide eyes, she shakes her head. 

“You’re not going to get my mother or my uncle, and I will get back my husband. We’re taking you back to Gal. Maybe my mother will have mercy on you.” 

“Are you all okay?” Lance huffs out as he runs towards them, eyes watching as the ship exits the atmosphere and heads for deep space. 

“We’re fine,” Pidge says, making sure Gnov is sufficiently tied up after putting green handcuffs on her wrists. 

“You did good, Lance,” Keith murmurs. 

“Thanks!” Lance’s brown cheeks flush. “You know they’re going to report back to Sendak, right?”

“I don’t doubt that.”

\--

After a long trip of keeping Gnov in the cargo hold of the Black Lion and leaving Planet Z-1-33, the team finally makes it back to the Castle of Lions. They place Gnov in the brig, throwing her into the glass prison deep within the Castleship. 

“We can interrogate her now or later…once we bring her back to Gal,” Allura suggests. 

“I say we interrogate her now,” Keith says. “The sooner we get the information out of her, the faster we can find Shiro.” 

“You are all idiots,” Gnov says from the opposite side of the glass. 

“Yes, that’s why you’re in the cell and we aren’t,” Hunk says sarcastically.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“If you want leniency, you will,” Allura says. 

“From those brats?” Gnov grits her teeth. “I’d rather Larka kill me publicly. Maybe then she’d be showing some backbone.”

Keith’s hands clench into fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The Empire will crumble under her leadership. That is why Emperor Sendak is the true leader. _Vrepit sa._ ”

“Quiznaking Galra,” Pidge grumbles. “You’re gonna tell us what we want to know. Either that, or I could put you in a sleep pod and pry it out of your mind.”

Gnov’s eyes widen. “You hold such technology?”

“We have druids now. You want to try it out?” Hunk shifts his stance. 

“What do you know?” Coran asks calmly. 

Gnov looks away from them to stare at the floor. 

“You’re going to talk right now,” Ryou orders.

The Galra soldier sucks her teeth, still staring down at the ground. “Sendak sent me to make the exchange, but I didn’t bring the gladiator with me.”

“Gladiator?”

“Shiro.”

“He’s fighting in the arena?” Keith asks. 

Gnov stays silent. 

“Why didn’t you bring the _gladiator_ with you?” Ryou asks mockingly. 

“I thought you would be willing to exchange Lotor and Larka without question,” Gnov explains. “Sendak knows that you’d do anything to get back one of your own.”

“What do you want with Larka and Lotor?” Keith asks. 

“What were you going to do with them once you had them?” Allura clarifies. 

Once again, Gnov stays silent. 

“You’re going to have to talk,” Pidge says. “There’s no one here to save you. You’re alone.”

Gnov clenches her fists. “I was planning to take Kythel, too.”

“Why?” asks Lance. 

“Collateral,” Gnov answers simply. “And it would have taken out the whole line of succession as well. Zarkon’s bloodline would be in our hands.”

“In Sendak’s?” Hunk corrects. 

Gnov nods. “Sendak has many at his disposal but none as precious as the line of succession. I don’t know what he plans to do with them.” 

“Who else is at his disposal?” Allura stands closest to the glass, her arms crossed over her chest.

“There are a few druids that had sided with Sendak instead of Larka.” Gnov grins. “None that you’ve ever seen.”

Keith turns to Pidge. “We need to check with your father on who isn’t in his ranks.”

“Have you seen the identities of these druids?” Pidge asks.

Gnov shakes her head, her grin still plastered to her face. 

“Why didn’t you bring Shiro?” Ryou asks. “Why pretend to have negotiations?” 

Gnov’s lips press into a tight, bloodless line. Ryou’s eyes narrow as he moves past Allura. 

“Ryou, what are you doing?”

“Ryou!”

“Ryou?”

Shiro’s twin opens the cell, striding in with a purpose. His fist meets Gnov’s face and the woman is sent sputtering to the floor. 

“Answer the question!”

“Ryou!”

Hunk and Lance rush into the cell as Ryou rains down fist after fist on Gnov’s face. Blood splatters across the white floor. Keith stands, shell-shocked, as he watches Ryou punch Gnov. She lets out a moan of pain before slumping over on the ground as Hunk and Lance manage to pull Ryou away. 

“W-we had no i-intention of giving you Shiro,” Gnov says, wiping away the blood from her lips and nose as she stares are Ryou with a dark glare. It smears, purple-tinted streaks against her purple skin. “My main objective was to obtain Larka and Lotor. Sendak has a vendetta against the two siblings, but he wants Shiro because he’s the perfect soldier. _You_ are just a cheap imitation.”

Keith lets out a deep sigh as Gnov’s gaze turns to him. “I don’t know why he wants you, but I’m sure it has something to do with your mother and grandfather.”

Keith swallows nervously. He needs some air, fresh air. None of this recycled nonsense. But it will have to wait. “I’m going to update Hazar on our progress. Allura, once you’re done here, we’re heading to the outer rim of the Fire of Purification territory. We’re getting Shiro back.”


	17. The Warmonger

The sun rises on the horizon, painting the sky a pale pink and periwinkle. It’s the early morning, the streets quiet despite the few people milling about heading to work or coming home from a late, night shift. The guards—soldiers and sentries alike—change within the next few doboshes, hastily yawning or running diagnostics on their chassis. For all of its calm qualities, the quintant seems average, a slow morning that will bleed into an active day. For now. 

“In the latest news,” the Unilu reporter says on the datapad, her four arms gesticulating wildly, “we have just gotten confirmation from the Galra government, headed by Empress Larka, that her son Prince Kythel has rejoined Team Voltron. They were unwilling to share the reason for his sudden departure from politics, but the Castle of Lions was last seen entering the Fire of Purification territorial region. The Fire of Purification is headed by Warlord Sendak, the Empress’ rival and ex-consort who battles for control over the Galra Empire.”

Thace rolls his eyes, about to scroll through to another holo-video when the Unilu reporter brings on a panel of guests. Three Galra and a rather richly dressed Puigian. 

Larka laughs absentmindedly as she dresses Akira on the changing table in a small tunic and equally tiny leggings. She laughs again as a half-dressed Akira tries to wrestle herself away.

“Ever since the Kral Zera, we know that Prince Kythel has been very active in the political scene,” one of the Galrans say, his hair cropped closed to his scalp. “It is very confusing as to what has happened to prompt this foray back into his role as a paladin.”

“But some have been saying that there hasn’t been a sighting of Kythel’s mate, Paladin Shirogane Takashi,” says the plump Puigian.

“It’s worth noting that they did just have a child,” the Unilu says slyly. “Could he be taking care of—”

“Would you turn that off?” Larka says, shooting her gaze over at Thace. 

“Don’t you want to hear the gossip?”

“Not if it’s coming from off-world,” Larka remarks, finally managing to get Akira’s arms through the sleeves of her purple and pink tunic. Her tail, however, is providing much trouble. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.” 

“Did Hazar’s team let it slip that Voltron was mobile?” Thace asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Doubtful.” Larka smiles down at Akira before lifting her up in her arms. “I’m sure that this is a guessing game for them. I don’t want anything out there that can be used to sensationalize our situation.” 

The door to Akira’s room opens, revealing Mick, hands full with a spork and a jar of purple baby food goo. 

“Is she hungry yet?” he asks, entering the room and sitting down on the couch. 

“Let us hope,” Larka answers, hurrying to sit beside him. 

Thace readjusts himself in his seat, gaze turning back to the video where the panel is up in arms over some new hypothetical Galran-Balmeran treaty that is hyperbole. Mick unscrews the cap to the jar and spoons out a tiny mouthful for Akira. 

“Okay, here it comes,” Mick coos excitedly. “Here comes the airplane!”

Larka stops jiggling Akira on her knee and holds her close as Mick tries to spoon the food in her mouth, but at the last tick Akira moves her face. 

Thace stifles a laugh.

“Not funny,” Larka murmurs. 

“Yeah, it is.” Thace turns back to the news just as Mick tries again and misses. 

“You remember how we first met?” Mick asks Larka. “The little time we spent together with Keith.”

She nods. “How could I forget?”

“Keith wasn’t this bad at eating, was he?” 

It’s Larka’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“But, you know, I would like to come back to the imperial family for a tick,” says another Galran, a short, stocky woman who looks almost too young to be a guest political analyst. “We’ve been talking to our sources in the Fortress and we know that Prince Kythel is out there fighting, but fighting against what? Warlord Sendak? Warlord Ranveig?”

“Warlord Ranveig has not been seen in several movements,” the Unilu says, rather flippantly. 

“But my point is,” she continues, “why send in Voltron, when the military can do this easily?”

“I’m sure Empress Larka doesn’t want to sacrifice her troops for an endless war,” the first Galran says.

“So, she wishes to sacrifice her son?”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” the Puigian comments. 

“Warlord Sendak was trained under the Empress’ father,” the young analyst continues. “For all intents and purposes, he was to be Emperor right now if it wasn’t for her marrying a spy—”

“That is inappropriate,” says the third Galran, a muscled woman with large furred ears. “Empress Larka is doing what all leaders do. Using her resources at her disposal. If I had a son and he could pilot one of the Lions, I would allow it, too.” 

“What are you saying, Commander Zaipos?” the Unilu asks. 

“This is war,” Commander Zaipos declares. “We’ve all picked sides, but we have no idea what our leadership deals with on a personal level. If Prince Kythel were my son, I would expect no less from him.”

“And what side have you picked?” The Unilu straightens up, folding her four arms beneath her ample chest. 

“I have chosen the side with the bigger ship.”

“And who is that?”

“Empress Larka.”

Thace narrows his eyes, scrutinizing the woman’s face and trying to recall where he had seen her before. Just as he’s about to ask Larka who the woman is, the door suddenly flies open. His yellow eyes narrow further at the sight of Krolia and Zethrid flanked by several guards.

“We have an emergency,” Krolia grits out.

The three of them turn to face Krolia and her group as Akira babbles around a mouthful of food. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The first guard—his helm pulled over his eyes as if it’s too big for him—steps forward between Krolia and Zethrid. 

“We have to relocate you,” Zethrid murmurs darkly.

“I apologize, my Imperial Majesty, but the Empress Mother has escaped,” the guard speaks. 

“We knew this was coming,” Larka sighs. “How did it happen?”

“We don’t know how,” the guard continues. “We were having a shift change and another soldier was bringing the Empress Mother her morning meal only to find her missing. He immediately reported it.” 

Larka lets out another winded sigh before standing with Akira in her arms. 

“We’re taking you and the baby to an undisclosed location,” Krolia finally says, angered by the events. “We’re gathering Lotor as we speak.”

“What about Zarkon’s body?” Thace asks. 

“We’ve doubled the guards around him,” Krolia responds. “No one is coming in or out of that laboratory.”

“What about the search?” Mick stands, setting the jar of food and utensil down on the small table. 

“We are currently looking for Honerva as we speak,” Krolia says.

“I’ll help,” Larka retorts. 

“No,” Thace and Mick say in unison.

“We don’t know what she’s after,” Krolia clarifies. “Let us sweep the city. We’ll find her.”

~~

The Castleship’s cloaking mechanism allows them to drift closer and closer to Sendak’s outer rim. The region is crawling with Purification ships and weaponry. Military installations mar every planetary surface. The paladins haven’t been this far out since they extracted Krolia and Mick and lost so many, but this part of space is even stranger. The planets are still just as volatile, but it’s almost as if Sendak has control over every piece of life out here.

However…Keith finds it odd that they haven’t been discovered yet. There’s just so much that a cloaking device can do. Especially when they’re drifting so close. 

“I’m sure they’ve picked up one of our signals,” Ryou says. “Why else would he be letting us enter his space?”

“We’re getting on his dreadnought,” Keith says, pointing to the gargantuan warship in the distance. It’s a large cruiser-class ship, used for intergalactic battle with a large ion cannon outfitted on the hull. “Get us as close as you can then we’ll eject and make the rest of the journey on foot.” 

“Are you sure this is how you want to do this?” Lance asks for the umpteenth time. 

“We’re getting in and out,” Keith says. “Shiro will most likely be on the brig of that ship. That’s usually where they keep their gladiators when they aren’t in the arena. We get in, hack into a console and track him down. We retrieve Shiro and then we get out. It’s that simple.”

“Well, I hope it’s that simple,” Hunk bemoans.

Coran and Ryou stay aboard the Castleship, monitoring the situation from there. The five paladins eject into space and use their jet packs to shuttle through the space between. They have to stop halfway through their journey so that Pidge can disable the drones roaming the area around the dreadnought. It sets them back about fifteen doboshes but it also gives Keith time to ground himself even while floating. They’ll need to stick together if they want to get through this alive. Sendak has gained a lot of ground in the last few phoebs. And he’s gathered a lot of their enemies under his control. For the first time since setting out on this mission to save Shiro, Keith realizes that this is a bit too dangerous. Sweat forms on his brow and he wishes he could wipe at it, but his helmet is in his way.

Sendak may have saved his life once upon a time, but that didn’t make them allies. If anything, it had been a final farewell before he went his separate way to take over after Zarkon mysteriously vanished. 

“Okay,” Pidge says, as the drones glow a soft green and stop in midair. “It’s all set. We can move forward.”

And so they do, careful to not disturb the drones as they travel through space and get closer to the hatch that Allura has zeroed in on. By the time they reach the dreadnought, sweat pours off his face, his braid—looped once around his neck—tickles against his skin causing an itching sensation. 

“Remember, to stick together,” Allura reminds them as Pidge and Hunk cut through a portion of the hull. They make a small hole that all five of them can float through. By the time they’re ready, Keith takes point, gathering the courage to go through the hole first. Once through, he looks around, staring at all the crates battened down. Peering around the corner of one significantly bulky crate, he immediately spots two soldiers on patrol and another one—a sentry—upon the ramparts. Right beside it is a console.

Keith turns around to look at his team. Pidge is just covering the hole with some sort of holographic plasma goop to seal out the vacuum of space. 

“They haven’t noticed anything yet, but there are three guards so far. Two around the corner, one on the parapets,” Keith reports. “I’ve also spotted a console.”

“We could split up, three of us take on the two at the bottom. And that would leave two to deal with the other.” Lance’s bayard materializes in his hand, turning into an Altean broadsword. 

“Did you not hear me the first time?” Allura huffs. “I said we should stick together for this mission.” 

“I agree with Allura,” Hunk states. 

“Thank you—”

“We better make up our minds quick,” Pidge states, looking around the corner briefly. “Those two are headed this way.” 

“Team leader?” Lance prompts. 

Keith unsheathes his Marmora blade from the base of his spine. It glows hotly in his hand before he throws it high. It sails through the air and for a moment he thinks it won’t reach the ramparts. But it does, lodging itself in the neck of the sentry. The droid goes down, clashing to the ground in a haphazard heap. 

“What was that?” one of the soldiers stage whispers. 

“Not sure,” says the other. “You think we should check on BX-136?”

Keith locks eyes with Lance, hoping that he knows what to do. Lance only nods. Just as the two soldiers begin to round the corner of the crate, Keith grabs the first while Lance grabs the second and immediately puts them in chokeholds. It takes longer than expected for the two of them to go down, especially with all the wriggling and gasping they do. 

“What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” Hunk asks, mouth agape. 

“I didn’t want to make any noise,” Keith murmurs. 

“You just did with that sentry,” Hunk retorts. 

“Come on,” Pidge says, jet pack activated as she floats upwards, towards the console and the deactivated sentry. “We don’t have much time. Hopefully we don’t run into any more soldiers.”

“This is Sendak’s base of operations.” Allura follows behind quickly. “I sincerely doubt that.”

By the time Keith reaches the console, Pidge already has her wrist device holo-screen up and the console started. She taps idly at the holo-screens before saying, “I want to try and disable the warship’s primary power source while we’re here.”

“What?”

“What?!”

“That’s not part of the plan, Pidge.”

“It will be easy,” she continues. “All I need to do is track down the main power source and disable it in that control room. I just need to find it.” She continues scrolling through the console’s screen until a map displays. “Killing two birds with one stone.”

“Pidge, we’re here for Shiro,” Keith reminds her gently. 

“And if we disable the primary power source,” Pidge says, “Sendak’ll be stranded for a while.”

There is a rushing behind them, the sounds of boots clanking on metal stairs and flooring, the whirring of weaponry aimed at them. 

“Except that won’t work,” says a deep voice behind them.

Immediately, everyone’s bayard is out and at the ready but they’re surrounded by at least two dozen soldiers…and Ranveig. His red optical prosthetic glows fiercely as does his purple battleaxe. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be holed up in the brig?” Keith asks, defensive. 

“Not today.”

\--

Sendak is just as daunting as Keith remembers. He’s still taller than him, dwarfing all the paladins with his size. The fur on his face needs a trim, but Keith supposes that that just makes him all the more intimidating in combat. He’s savage and relentless, eager to taste blood on his teeth and swat the paladins down with one hit. Keith doesn’t let that deter him as he glares daggers at the warlord. 

“I’ve been expecting the five of you,” Sendak starts, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down at them. 

They’re in—what Keith guesses is—a changing room. They were forced to strip in front of each other and given slave tunics and bodysuits of gray and black. It was humiliating and Keith still feels his cheeks flushed dark purple. 

“Although,” Sendak continues, “it did take longer than I had originally imagined.”

Ranveig and a group of Galra stand behind him, looking just as threatening and unapproachable. They won’t get any help from these people. 

“You all should know by now, that I am a man of action, not of words,” Sendak grins. “So, you’ll forgive me if I begin torturing you before sharing my knowledge with you, Kythel.” 

Keith’s eyes widen as Sendak approaches Allura first. 

“Let’s start with Princess Allura. She’s always been a thorn in my side.”

Lance throws himself down instantly, wrestling his way towards Allura even with his hands cuffed behind his back. “No! No! Take me instead! Take me!”

Sendak ignores him, only a smirk on his face as he makes a move to grab Allura by the neck and drag her forward. 

“Please!” Lance says, even as the others begin to struggle. “Take me!”

Allura gives him a faint smile despite the pain of Sendak’s prosthetic hand wrapped around her throat. “It’s okay, Lance. I’m okay.”

“You won’t be,” Sendak grins, free hand moving toward Allura’s shoulder with thoughts of dislocating it. 

“Stop!” Keith shouts. “You’ve made your point! What do you want?”

There’s a clean crack and a shrill scream from Allura as Sendak yanks on her arm, pulling it free from its socket. 

“That isn’t enough begging, Prince Kythel,” Sendak says mockingly. “This is what the universe sends. It’s great defenders. Unwilling to keep it together for more than five doboshes. How does your team work so well with such feelings and intimacy between the blue and red paladins?”

Lance is on the verge of tears as Sendak harshly yanks on Allura’s other arm. It cracks twice and Keith fears more damage has been done than they think. Her arms are hanging limply at her sides as Sendak puts her in a chokehold, her messy white hair falling from the braided chignon. Hunk and Pidge stare, eyes wide and mouths agape. Usually when they’re up against Sendak, they’ve been able to fight back. But they’ve never been his prisoners like this before.

“Stop! Stop!” Keith yells. “What do you want?!”

“I sent Gnov to deal with you personally,” Sendak states before dropping Allura to the floor. “Her men return without her. How do you think that makes me feel, Kythel?” He steps on Allura’s leg as he crosses the room to crouch in front of Keith. She whimpers aloud.

“What do you want?” Keith asks, seething. His gut clenches and his chest aches and he wants nothing more than to put a bullet in Sendak’s head. 

“Your mother and her brother,” Sendak says simply. “I only require those two. You bring me Larka and Lotor and I’ll release the paladins and your lover.” 

“You’re lying,” Keith murmurs. 

For a tick, Sendak looks disappointed in him. He straightens up, turning to Ranveig. 

“Put them in the cell.”


	18. Lurking Downward

They’re led in a straight line down a narrow corridor of the dreadnought. The lights are dimmer here, a soft glowing purple that subtly pulsates. Every so often the guard in the back hastily shoves Lance forward causing him to jolt against Allura who lets out a whining groan from the pain radiating down her arms. Their captors have yet to fix her shoulders and Keith doubts they even will. With one paladin incapacitated, Sendak has control over all of them. 

The guard in front of Keith walks with a rifle clenched in his fists. If Keith’s hands had been cuffed in the front, he would have roped his arms around the guard’s neck and pulled. But fortunately for the guard, Keith’s cuffed hands rest at the base of his spine, right where his blade should be. Pidge hums lowly but is quickly silenced when a third soldier comes up and thwacks her across her face, sending her pummeling to the ground. Keith and Hunk rush to her defense only to be held back by the guards. 

“Silence,” the third solider says before dragging her to her feet again. 

Blood leaks down her nose and there’s a nasty purpling bruise forming just below her temple. Without much fanfare or resistance, the group begins down the narrow hallway again until they’re met with a pair of sliding double doors. Keith watches diligently as the first guard hastily types in the passcode in Galra numerical glyphs. 3-1-6-8-

The man’s hand moves too quickly to the right and Keith can’t get the last number. It must be a nine or another six, but he’s betting that Sendak’s soldiers don’t think that Keith knows Galra. Too bad for them. The doors swipe open and the guards shuffle them forward into a great antechamber with cells from the floor up. Some are single units, others large and used for groups of prisoners. The paladins of Voltron are escorted down the hall and to the right. They stop at a large metal door.

The first guard places his hand on the passcode’s screen. It immediately reads his handprint and the door slides open. He shoves Keith in first, after taking off the cuffs, who nearly stumbles over the threshold. 

The room is big, bigger than what Keith had expected. It’s outfitted with a small window looking outside at the void, a small twin-sized bed, and a private shower stall, sink, and toilet. Over to the right is another private area with a chair and holo-screen projected on the plain, metal wall. 

Keith’s blood runs cold at the sight of someone sitting in the chair. 

“Keith?” Shiro says, standing up instantly. Keith can’t help himself. He launches himself at Shiro, throwing his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and pulling him close. Tears burn in his eyes, tracking hot streaks down his cheeks. He doesn’t want to be crying. “Pidge, Hunk, what’s wrong with Allura?” Shiro asks as his arms envelope Keith, too. 

“We had a little accident,” Pidge says flatly, rubbing her own uncuffed wrists.

Keith feels a hand on his shoulder before he’s yanked away from Shiro’s embrace. “Prisoners are not permitted to touch,” a guard says sourly, like he doesn’t even like the rules and regulations aboard Sendak’s dreadnought. 

Soon Lance is ushered in and the guards leave, locking the doors behind them. Two of them stay but their vision is pointed away from them. 

“Help me get Allura to the bed,” Pidge says, rushed. “I’m gonna try and put her together again.”

Allura lets out another whine, her forehead covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

“What happened to her?” Shiro repeats, helping Lance guide Allura over to the bed. 

“Sendak,” Keith breathes. 

“He dislocated her shoulders,” Hunk finishes. 

“You shouldn’t have come.” Shiro turns to Keith.

“And leave you here? In Sendak’s clutches? Again? No way.”

“How are you going—” Shiro starts but Keith launches at him a second time, grabbing Shiro in a tight hold. 

“We can think of that later,” Keith says. “I’m just glad to see you…it is you, right? No clones?”

“No clones,” Shiro smiles, kissing Keith’s cheek. “Just me.”

Keith pulls away, turning to the deactivated holo-screen, but it’s Lance that comments on it. “They gave you a television. Must be nice for a gladiator.”

“It’s only one channel,” Shiro answers. “The Arena. They allow gladiators a bit more preferential treatment. A window, a holo-screen, a nice bed, but it’s still a prison.”

A dull crack reverberates in the room and Keith winces as Hunk smothers Allura’s scream with the palm of his hand. 

“One down,” Pidge says coolly. 

“Where did you learn this, Pidge?” Shiro asks, hand gripping tight to Keith’s own hand. 

“A documentary…take another deep breath.”

Allura takes a large gasp of air, but hyperventilates anyway when Hunk places his palm against her mouth again. Pidge grabs her upper arm, jolts it outward, and then forward and behind her head, and swivels a bit before another crack reverberates through the room. 

“You’re gonna have to act like your arms are still messed up,” Pidge gently reminds Allura. 

“Yes, that won’t be a problem,” Allura finally speaks, her voice quiet and pained. “I think I’m going to need a sleep pod after this, he did more damage than just dislocate my shoulders. There is something wrong with my arms.”

Pidge narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“They feel like jelly.”

“Sendak is, like, a strong guy,” Hunk remarks. “Maybe he did more damage than we think?” 

Keith works fast. He gently nudges Allura off the bed. Then he strips it of its sheet, ripping two thin pieces off before making a sling and handing them to Lance. The red paladin carefully helps Allura into the duel slings. 

“We’re gonna have to deal with that later,” Pidge speaks matter-of-factly. “We need to focus on how we’re going to get out of here.” 

“I have a match tomorrow during the evening cycle,” Shiro says. “We have until then.” 

“Sendak is expecting that,” Keith retorts. “Why else would he stick us in here with you?” 

“We’ve been stripped of our uniforms and our weapons,” Hunk says. “What are we going to do?”

“How long have you been fighting in the arena?” Keith asks Shiro.

“Since I got here,” Shiro answers. “I’ve had nine fights so far.” And he looks it. His hair is a bit longer, swept back from his face. And there’s a light bruising across his cheekbones and a few nicks on his chin. His facial hair has grown in. But his previously dim eyes look renewed, brightened by the fact that the paladins have come to his rescue. 

“There must be some sort of celebration for your tenth fight, right?” Keith asks. “What if you fought your tenth and we raise some hell during the celebration and escape?”

“That’s counting on the hypothetical piece of information that there _may_ be a celebration,” Pidge says, chiding. 

“But there are,” Keith and Shiro say in unison. 

“It’s tradition,” Keith says hypothetically. “I never went to them, but when Zarkon had me enroll in school while I was on his dreadnought, there was nearly a daily celebration for gladiators who preformed well. Even some of the soldiers went when it was primarily for the gladiators.”

“What kind of celebration are we talking about here?” Pidge asks. “Like gals and guys being brought to your cell for entertainment or Dionysian drinking parties?”

“Both,” Keith and Shiro say again. 

“Wow, who knew Galra were so perv—” Hunk starts.

“Stay on track, please,” Allura interrupts, disciplined despite her pain. “We need to figure out a plan. We shouldn’t wait until the celebration. It would take too long and we don’t know Shiro’s opponent. What if something goes wrong?”

_What if Shiro loses?_

“But more importantly,” Hunk starts, “we need to get out of here before he decides to have us fight some sort of beast. Why else would he put us in here? What if he makes gladiators out of all of us?” 

“Or worse,” Pidge adds, “what if he has us try and kill each other. What if we’re the opponents?” 

“Since I got here, I’ve fighting for Sendak’s amusement.” Shiro drops Keith’s hand in favor of pacing. “Everything he does is for a reason. He has some attachment to me. I don’t know what it is, but he won’t have me fight something that I can’t win. He knows my strengths in that way. I doubt he’d have me fight you guys. He has other plans for us.” 

“He said he wants Larka and Lotor,” Allura says. “That he’d exchange us for them.”

“What did you tell him?”

“No,” Keith answers. “We knew that he’s a liar. He’d rather keep all of us and then some.”

For the next varga, they try and make plans. Some of them are getting the guards attention and overpowering them. Some of the plans detail what they could do if Shiro won the next match. They run through various problems and realities. And they deal with the fact that they want to liberate the other gladiators and prisoners. How would they get them off the dreadnought, unnoticed? It would be an impossible task. 

Lance scrubs a hand through his hair. “We could be spied on right now.” 

Keith grows angrier by the dobosh. What could they do right now other than make plans? Without thinking, Keith goes over to the door. He angrily raps his fist against the frame, peering through the small barred, glass window. 

“I want to speak with Sendak!” he shouts. 

One of the guards turn to him. “Step away from the door, prisoner.”

“I want to speak with Sendak!” he repeats. 

“Step away from the door.” 

“Please, I want to speak with Sendak.”

The guard narrows his eyes and for a moment Keith thinks that he’s pushed too far. That the guard will storm in here and break his skull for his insolence. But the soldier only turns to the other, whispers something, and then disappears from view. 

“Is he…is he going to—”

“He’s going to send your request up the ranks,” the second guard says. “Now step away from the door.” 

Keith lets out a breath of relief. 

“Keith, what are you going to do?” Shiro asks. 

“We’re not going to get out of here, unless we overpower them. But even then, it’ll be a long way out of here, especially if we want to rescue the other prisoners. We have to think pragmatically.”

“And talking it out with Sendak is pragmatic?” Lance asks. “This isn’t like talking to a baby, Keith. Sendak could kill you and we wouldn’t know.”

“He’s not going to kill me.”

“Just because you’re Larka’s son doesn’t make you untouchable. Billions of her enemies, and Voltron’s enemies for that matter, would want you dead. Think about this. If you’re there with Sendak, we can’t help you,” Lance comments. 

“If I’m not back in an hour, overpower the guards,” Keith says.

“Are you listening to yourself?” Lance asks, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and kill him yourself?” Shiro asks darkly. 

“Nothing like that,” Keith lies. 

“Keith…”

“I can try and kill him, or we can stay here and wait for the next fight,” Keith says. “Even if I don’t manage to kill him and I talk him down, you still overpower the guards and get out.”

“We’re not leaving you behind, buddy,” Hunk says. 

“I’ll be right behind you.” 

“No, you won’t,” Pidge says. “You’ll be stuck aboard this ship, surrounded by enemies. What happened to sticking together?”

“I’m team leader right now, and I’m saying that I’m going to be right behind you. Trust me,” Keith remarks.

The conversation dwindles as everyone goes to different areas of the cell. Lance sits beside Allura on the bed. Pidge takes up looking out the window into the black expanse. Hunk sits on the vacated chair, turning on the holo-screen to watch a small fight between an Olkarion pirate and a half Galra soldier. The soldier wins the match. 

“What are you hoping to accomplish with this?” Shiro asks, arms crossed over his broad chest. “You don’t have anything to prove to Sendak.” 

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I want answers.”

“Answers to what?”

“Why he wants Larka and Lotor so badly? What does he really want with them?”

“They represent the Galra Empire under new leadership, a Galra open to all. Not just the highest echelon of Galran aristocrats and commanders. I have no doubts that Sendak abhors that. That’s why he wants them.”

“You think that he just wants to kill them?” 

“No,” Shiro answers. “I think he wants to make examples out of them. What happens if you rebel against Zarkon’s ten thousand years of expansion…Sendak probably thinks he’s the rightful heir anyway.”

“Speaking of Zarkon…we found him.” 

Shiro’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah, on my mission with my moms and Acxa. We found him and an entire civilization of living Alteans.”

“Did you bring them back to Gal?” 

Keith nods.

“Is Zarkon _alive_?” 

“As alive as he can be,” Keith says. “Lotor is working on a project to purify him?” 

“ _Purify_ him?” Shiro asks. “What does that mean?”

“He’s undergoing a quintessence transfusion, so that when he wakes up, he’s not the same psychopath that we fought and he's more of the father my mother and Lotor knew.”

“That’s possible?”

“With the powers Lotor and Allura gained in Oriande, I think it will work. But he insists on doing it alone.”

Shiro gives him a pointed look.

“Don’t worry. Ulaz and my mother are overlooking his progress,” Keith smirks.

“And how is the progress?”

“So far, so good. Last time I checked.” 

“Well, that’s good, Keith. Maybe we can get some normalcy back.” He pauses. “How is Akira?”

Keith smiles faintly. “She misses you. I can tell.” 

“You think she’ll remember me?”

“You haven’t been gone _that_ long,” Keith says. 

“It feels like a lifetime,” Shiro responds. “How is everyone else though? Larka? Coran? The Coalition?”

“Everyone is doing okay, Shiro. Don’t worry.” 

“Ryou isn’t causing too much trouble?”

“Surprisingly, he’s been very good. A sarcastic ass, but he means well.” 

“I’m sure he does.” Shiro smiles. 

For the next hour, they make a solid plan. If Keith wasn’t back within an hour, the five of them would overpower the guards, find a console and open all the cells within the entire brig. They’d lead a slight revolution aboard Sendak’s dreadnought and escape right after retrieving Keith. It wasn’t the best plan, but at least the mini-rebellion would cause a reasonable enough distraction to many of the soldiers.

Just doboshes after finalizing their plans, the guard returns with a few others in tow.

“Prince Kythel,” the first guard says, “Warlord Sendak wishes to see you.” 

\--

Keith is taken back the way they came through and up a side elevator. It climbs each level and sub-level of the ship until they finally reach the second floor. The lift softly dings, the doors sliding open to a large suite. 

“He owns the entire second level,” Keith says aloud. 

“He is the Warlord,” says the guard behind him, the same one who looked on sourly as he separated Keith and Shiro. 

_Not for long,_ Keith thinks. The guard gives him a gentle nudge off the elevator before the doors close behind him. 

The room is quiet except for the hum of the holo-screen turned to some news station. But the room is large, an office space with several different doors leading to different areas of the suite. A desk rests in the middle of the room with three chairs surrounding it. To the right, a coffee table sits covered in holograms and maps and datapads. The room has so much empty space, it feels like it could swallow Keith up. An unlived-in, gaping maw. 

The door to the left finally opens and Sendak comes striding in, armor gleaming, red prosthetic eye glowing. His prosthetic arm looks just as dangerous as usual even as it looks like an over-sized Galra prosthetic similar to Shiro’s rather than his usual weaponry. So, he’s going for functionality more than deadliness. Fine, Keith can work with that. 

“Kythel, are you going to be reasonable? Or should I send you back to your cell?” Sendak asks, haughty.

“I’ve come to talk.”

“My terms are nonnegotiable, boy.”

“Surely we can come to a different agreement,” Keith responds. “There is no way the Coalition will hand you two of its most formidable scientists.”

“And that is one of the many of reasons I require Larka and Lotor.”

“For science?”

“Among other things,” Sendak grins. 

“Humor me.”

Sendak lets out a long sigh as if he’s already grown tired by their conversation. 

“They’ll be tried for war crimes against the Galra Empire, for sending us into to strife and chaos.”

“My mother has more support than you, even during the Kral—”

“Your mother is a liar who has thrown our entire culture into disarray.”

“She’s done more for the Galra than—”

“By showing our weaknesses to the rest of the known universe.” Sendak laughs. “Zarkon should have dashed her brains against a wall the moment she came screaming out of her Altean mother.”

Keith’s cheeks flush. He’s not surprised by Sendak’s words, he’s heard them before; Sendak has heard those words before. But it still angers Keith. His right hand tingles, clenching into a fist. The only thing Keith has left is provocation. 

“Did you ever love her?” he asks. “Or was she always a means to the throne for you?”

Sendak smirks, showing pointed teeth. Keith can’t help but bear his own. 

“You think you have it figured out, but you’re still just a boy begging for his mother.”

From across the ship, Keith summons his bayard. It flashes in his hand and he barely has time to think about the implication. It turns into its usual form, a long dagger. Keith strikes, rushing over to Sendak with his weapon raised. Sendak immediately blocks the strike with his prosthetic arm. But it’s too late, Keith is already swooping low, agility getting the best of him as he strikes low. Even with the armor on, Sendak falls to one knee. He swipes out with a fist, catching Keith in the side. 

Keith grits his teeth through the pain. Their fight is silent, save for the few pained grunts and slight whimpers. Every time Keith attacks, Sendak parries. Every time Sendak strikes, Keith dodges. It’s a back and forth, a tit for tat. Finally, Keith manages to land a hit to Sendak’s broad shoulder. At the last tick, Sendak strikes out, slapping Keith across the face with the back of his hand. Keith stumbles back, teeth rattling, and he’s struck with the memory of his mother loosing one of her molars during one of her more torturous moments aboard Zarkon’s dreadnought. 

Sendak doesn’t falter. With Keith stunned, he grabs at his wrist, yanking the bayard from his hand. It clatters to the floor, sliding towards the elevator. Keith, in an attempt to get the upper hand, tries to dash over to it. But Sendak grabs at his braid, yanking him backwards before pelting him down towards the ground. Sendak moves forward, curling his fist as he punches Keith across the cheek. Pain swells through his face and Sendak sends another hit down at Keith. The black paladin raises his hands trying to protect and shield himself as Sendak rains down another punch. 

_He’s going to kill me,_ Keith thinks, despair and fear percolating through his body, settling in his stomach. But finally, _finally_ , the punching stops. 

“If you were my son, you would have been stripped of your rank and hanged in a cell by your feet,” Sendak says hoarsely, like their battle took a lot out of him. 

“But I’m not your son,” Keith grits out as purple-tinged blood coats his teeth. “You’re nothing like my fathers. You can’t even compare.”

Sendak’s lone yellow eye widens and for a moment, Keith thinks that maybe this mad monster does hold some unrequited affection for his mother. 

Sendak’s face drops and he whispers darkly, “I will rip apart your family inch by inch, bit by bit until nothing remains but the roots of your failed empire.”

Keith sees the strike before it happens and the world fades to black.


	19. Strife

When Keith finally comes to, the taste of blood clings to the back of his throat. It’s potent, feels just as poisonous as the venom that coats his veins. There’s a spot on his neck that itches. Keith reaches up, feels at the sore, purple-red bump, and lets out a harsh groan. He’s been injected with something, he feels it in his bones. He’s sluggish as he rolls over onto all fours, slow as he rises from the couch on the other side of the room. He turns his head to the side, the faint glow of the holographic maps softly painting his face. 

His eyes are watery, and he brushes away the tears with the back of his hand. He collapses on the couch once more. At least Sendak had the remaining decency to place him on the comfy pillows before leaving him to rot with something pumping through his veins. Unlike his first thought, he now thinks it’s more of a sedative than it is a poison, but he won’t know for sure until he gets into a pod.

Slowly, Keith finally sits up, his head spinning as he tries to gather his surroundings. He plants his feet on the ground, struggles to stand while he grows dizzier and dizzier. For a brief moment, Keith has to grab at the table in front of him, jostling the datapads and maps across the sleek surface, just to regain his balance. 

His eyes cease watering, his vision clearing enough that he sees several of the familiar maps in front of him. The first—in muted reds and blues—is a map of Gal’s main city-state, the capitol before the Fortress had been built. His eyes rove over the familiar side streets and large structures. He even spots the science building that his mother loves to spend so much time in. Does Sendak know that Zarkon rests in one of the science laboratories? Or does he not have that information yet? There are several other maps. Small agrarian villages that surround the city-state, the few hunting lodges that dot the surface of the planet’s southern hemisphere. He had plans to take Mick out there once things had settled down. Then there is a map of the prison, blueprints of the structure as it’s currently being built. It unsettles him. The person who gave Sendak these maps had to have been around when the Fortress had not been built yet, but the prison was still in that same process of construction. It's now become a project pushed to the backburner ever since the missions to Oriande and the Quantum Abyss took place. 

_Furthermore, why is Sendak showing me all this?_ Keith thinks. 

But he already knows the answer to that question. Sendak wants him to know that he sees them. He knows where all the tiny villages are, the defenses of the capitol, the current state of Gal. And no doubt there is another mole who has been feeding Sendak information. 

_It’s not Narti,_ Keith grits his teeth. He’s already seen the vision of Narti coming to their aid after Honerva’s impending disappearance. Why would she be playing three sides against each other? What did she have to gain from that? Nothing but uncertainty for her future. 

Keith scrubs a hand through his hair, it getting caught in the messy braid. He must get out of here. Now. He’s overstayed his welcome. If he had his wrist device, he’d download any information off this table, but for now he’ll have to memorize it. The maps of Gal, Olkarion, the Balmera, Imperial outposts under Larka’s command. Sendak has it all. And now Keith has proof that the warlord has a spy working for him. 

Suddenly, the sound of thick boots hitting the metal floor echoes down a hallway. Keith’s eyes dart around the room, spotting his bayard lying in the same spot on the floor. He makes a mad dash over to scoop the weapon up. His long dagger materializes in his hand and he waits.

~~

Ryou is on autopilot has he enters the dreadnought through a hatch in the bowels of the ship. He had been on autopilot when he had taken the spare black paladin uniform and armor from Coran’s hands. He had been on autopilot when he rushed from the ship using a portable hovercraft, hoping to any god that would hear him that he wouldn’t be noticed by the drones. He’d even ignored Coran’s words of caution about leaving the Castleship the way he did, but they hadn’t heard back from any of the paladins in vargas.

They needed eyes on the inside and Ryou had offered himself up when Coran approached the topic. He knew deep down that Coran wanted to join him, but someone needed to man that Castleship if the paladins radioed in and Ryou would work well on his own anyway. Coran may be hesitant when it came to killing, but Ryou had no qualms about killing Galra soldiers if it was for his family. Coran knew this and allowed him the opportunity to search for the rest of Team Voltron. Alone. 

Ryou crouches behind a container of glowing quintessence before stabbing a stray guard who wandered too far from his group. Ryou eases the body down, as the soldier collapses, gurgling. Once the body is safely tucked away, Ryou moves onto his next goal: accessing a console. He’s not as capable as Hunk and Pidge are when it comes to hacking and technology; but he’s a clone, accustomed to the Galra and their numerical codes. 

He spots a console on the upper deck and quickly traverses over to it. He barely tucks into an alcove just in time before a patrol comes walking down the upper deck corridor. Once the patrol ambles away, Ryou tears away from the hiding spot and slams his Altean prosthetic down on the console with a bruising force. Whatever magic Larka had weaved into the prosthetic, it overpowers the Galra tech and Ryou quickly logs in to the main screen. 

It’s been a long time since Hunk or Keith had sent word that they were safely aboard the ship and Ryou knows they’ve been taken somewhere. If anywhere, it had to be the brig of the dreadnought. He reads through the Galran glyphs, cycles through command prompts, and pulls up a map of the ship. 

“Gotcha,” Ryou whispers slyly. He tabs open the brig level, scrolling through the cameras until he spots one cell filled with dumb paladins that give him too many daily headaches. “Idiots. What have you gotten yourselves into this time?” 

The sound of footsteps breaks him out of his concentration. He memorizes the level, the area of the ship, and logs out of the console. He heads in that direction before he has the misfortune of getting caught like those dunderheads. 

Ryou kills four more guards before reaching the door to the brig. Twice in the hallway and two more that were in the elevator. He places his Altean hand on the keypad, overriding the lock and swiping himself inside. The doors open and he’s greeted with floor-to-ceiling cells, but he follows the path he had laid out for himself, ducking around the corner when he gets closer to the cell he wants. 

Two guards stand in front of the cell door. They’re quiet; they're facing forward as they stare blankly, at the cell across from them, from beneath their helms. 

Sweat beads at his forehead and with his helmet on, he can’t wick it away. Tensely, he lets out a low whistle. 

“What was that?” the first guard asks. 

The second guard swivels around, back and forth. “No clue.”

_Idiots._

Ryou lets out another whistle. 

“Should we check it out?” the first guard asks again. 

“Why don’t you check it out?” The second guard tosses a look at the cell they’re guarding. “One of us gotta stay here.” 

“It’s just around the corner.”

“Are you scared?” 

“No.”

“Then go by yourself.”

Ryou shakes his head, annoyed. For the third time, he lets out a whistle and hears the tell-tale sounds of footsteps. He prepares himself, more mentally than physically. He just lets his body do the talking as the guard rounds the corner and Ryou immediately puts him in a chokehold. He places his hand around the soldier’s mouth, suffocating him as he wrenches at his neck. Finally, the soldier goes down, slinking to the floor wordlessly. 

Ryou lets out a deep breath that fogs up his helmet. Peering around the corner, he looks at the second guard and his blood runs cold. The guard is peering through the window of the target cell, hand raised, poised over the keypad. 

_What the hell is he doing?_

Without thinking, Ryou reveals himself, stepping out from the corner and facing the guard. The soldier jolts, hand moving away from the keypad. He raises both hands in the air as he squints. Realization dawns on his face as he scrutinizes Ryou and then looks back at the cell window. The guard is seeing double as he realizes that two faces look the same. Besides their different personalities, Shiro’s hair is shorn around the sides while Ryou’s is not. And every day, Shiro’s hair gets whiter and whiter due to stress. But the guard doesn’t know that with Ryou’s own hair covered by his helmet. 

“Ryou Shirogane,” the guard says out clearly.

Ryou’s eyes narrow and his brows furrow. Either his reputation proceeds him or—

“My name is Guz. I’m with the Blade of Marmora. Knowledge or death.”

Ryou’s heart skips a beat. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? Does Kolivan know about this?”

“Kolivan sent out a group of us without Empress Larka knowing. We’re here to monitor the situation,” Guz says sourly.

“What situation?” 

“The Sendak one.”

Ryou growls low in his throat.

“Open that door.”

Without another word, Guz places his hand on the keypad and the door open soundlessly. Ryou, still wary, strides in after Guz. The moment he walks in after the Blade, Shiro is moving to strike the guard, but he stops short when he spots Ryou. 

“What’s going on?” Shiro warbles. 

“What are you doing here?” Hunk asks. 

“Nice to see you too, Hunk,” Ryou drawls. 

“Please tell me you’re not the rescue party?” Pidge asks mockingly.

“Would you rather it be clumsy Coran?” Ryou asks flatly. 

“Who is this?” Lance inquires, pointing at the guard. 

“A Blade,” Ryou says, eyes scanning over the rest of them. He spots Allura sitting on the bed. She doesn’t look so good, her face pinched with pain. 

“A Blade?” asks Shiro. “How do you—”

“Ulaz helped you escape Galra clutches the first time,” Guz counters. “You and Prince Kythel have a daughter together, Akira. Ryou is your clone.”

“Anybody could know those things.”

“Well, I can continue to list facts, or you can trust me. We don’t have much time.” 

Ryou’s eyes narrow. “Where is Keith?” 

“He went up to Sendak’s quarters an hour ago. He hasn’t been back.” Shiro replies. 

“I was one of those guards who escorted him,” Guz says. “He was safe the last time I saw him.”

“You don’t know that now.” Pidge says icily. 

“That is true,” he remarks. “Which is why we don’t have much time. Sendak’s quarters are on the second level. If we can get up there in time, we can take him out.”

“Kill Sendak?” Ryou asks. “Why haven’t you done that already?”

“Have you _seen_ Sendak recently?” Hunk crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, he looks like he’s juicing more than usual,” Lance adds jokingly. 

“What about the other prisoners? We need to take them with us,” Allura says, panting slightly. 

_What we need is to get you out of here,_ Ryou thinks. 

“Negative,” Guz speaks brusquely. “The directive was to observe and kill. This was not labeled a rescue mission.”

“You’re rescuing us now?” Pidge grits her teeth. 

“Because Empress Larka would have my head if I did not aid Voltron,” Guz replies.

“She’ll have your head if she knows you delivered Keith to Sendak,” Ryou quips. 

“No one is taking heads off,” Shiro interrupts, attempting to diffuse the erupting tension. “Ryou, the Blade, and I will go get Keith. Hunk, you get Allura back to the Castleship. Lance and Pidge, find some escape pods, release the prisoners and get them on them. We’ll take as many as we can. But first, we need our gear.”

~~

Sweat coats his forehead and slicks his hands. He nearly drops his bayard when Sendak parries and strikes. Keith blocks, raising his blade high above his head. His gaze flashes towards the door. Perhaps if he aims a well-timed strike, he could distract Sendak long enough to make another dash for the door. Since he arrive, every time he’s tried to head for the door Sendak has blocked him. His prosthetic strikes Keith across the face and sends him hurtling to the floor. Sendak has taunted him since he’s arrived. Dangled the intel in front of face, threw slurs towards his parents, demanded that if he ever got his hands on Akira that he would turn her into a proper Galra soldier. It only confirms Keith’s thoughts about a mole. Someone is feeding in him information. Even if Akira’s name has traveled throughout the coalition, someone is selling secrets.

Though everything Sendak says makes Keith’s blood boil. 

Keith licks his lips, tastes blood and salt, and lets out a whine. He takes a deep breath, pushing past the pain lacing throughout his body. Just as he’s about to strike, to rush over to Sendak and wedge his bayard through the giant’s throat, the door slides open and three figures are pressing into the large room. Somehow it makes the chamber seem smaller with all these new arrivals. Twins and a soldier. Keith lets out another deep breath as Sendak’s turns to face the new intruders.

“Wha—?” Sendak starts, but is interrupted when Ryou charges, grabbing Sendak around the waist. They both lose their footing and tumble to the floor. Sendak snarls, grappling forward as Ryou aims a punch at his head. Ryou misses and Sendak lets out a bark of laughter. “So the prodigal clone returns. What a waste.”

Keith drops his bayard and kicks it towards Ryou and Sendak. Ryou immediately grabs it and it activates hotly in his hand. Silently, Ryou shoves the blade in the gaps of Sendak’s armor, wedging it right between his ribs. Sendak grunts, hands grabbing for Ryou as he pulls out the blade and pushes himself away. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, rushing over to him and pulling him up, towards the exit of the room. The soldier is helping Ryou up, but all Keith can focus on is the purplish blood gushing and oozing from between Sendak’s plates of armor. “We need to go. Pidge has your paladin uniform. Let’s go.”

Keith doesn’t look back as they flee from the dreadnought. 

\--

When they get back to the Castleship and they’re plunging through space, Pidge fills them in on what happened. The Castleship is packed with people, but not everyone was able to get to the escape pods. Some were left behind. Pidge and Lance had been able to open the cells and a rebellion started, one they were unable to control. They were quickly overrun and couldn’t organize, but they had managed to gain the attention of at least forty prisoners who accompanied them on the escape pod. They tried to save as many people, but the chaos was too much. Whether Sendak lived or died, his ship would still have to deal with the fact that the gladiators and prisoners were roaming freely, killing any soldier caught off guard. Hopefully they could find the additional escape pods and make there way to a coalition outpost. 

Regardless of the outcome, Keith’s eager to take a dip in the bathing hall pools to soothe his aching bones and clean himself of the crusting blood. But as they land the Castleship on the Gal landing pad, he realizes they’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The city is in chaos, too. 

Honerva is gone.


	20. Welcome Back

Larka rubs her temples, willing the migraine away. The incessant chattering surrounding her is a dull roar in her ears. A stark contrast against the buzz in her head. A cocktail creating the worst ache. Kolivan shoots her a cool look, listening absentmindedly as Krolia reports back in before leaving as quickly as she arrived. Zethrid hot on her heels. 

They’ve all come back empty-handed. Honerva has thoroughly disappeared.

The amphitheater was cleared vargas ago, searched through and ransacked by sentry guards. A cool breeze filters in through the current opened ceiling, dancing through her loose hair. She’s dying for Thace to braid it back from her face as she thinks, but a grooming session will have to come later. Much later at the rate the meeting is going. 

Her gaze falls on her husband as he swipes through his datapad, information already streaming in from across the city. 

“No news from Team Six,” he murmurs before thumbing to a different screen. 

_How unfortunate,_ Larka thinks, ignoring the next Blade who comes up to the dais to report in. She rakes a hand through her violet hair, coiling her fingers through the ends. 

“…Imperial Majesty? Your Imperial Majesty?” The young Blade—Ezor—says idly. “What should we do?”

“What?” Larka finally looks up. 

It’s not like they didn’t know this would happen. The only thing they didn’t know was _when_. It still makes anger trickle down her back at being caught unaware. How long had Honerva been planning her escape? How did she accomplish it while cuffed? Did she have any help? All the questions keep cycling through her head, unsettling her as tries to gather her thoughts. Perhaps they should have been tougher on Honerva’s imprisonment…perhaps they should have executed her. Larka shakes her head, chastising herself for that train of thought. Everyone in the known universe knows that Honerva was Larka’s weakness, even Honerva herself, but even that would be going too far. Could she…could she have killed her mother? Raised the battleaxe and prayed that justice would be served…

“What should we do about the housing sector?” Ezor steers her back to the conversation. “It’s been cleared. Should we have the citizens return home? Should they stay under lockdown in the tunnels? It maybe a safety precaution but—”

 _We’re not going to find her,_ Larka wants to finish, but she doesn’t want to discourage them. All she wants to be is the sour girl of her youth, tucked by her parents’ sides as they went around and ruled with iron fists and iron hearts. Could she be that way today?

Larka swallows around the ball of heat gathering in her throat. “We should have the people escorted back to their homes, but afterwards I want them under lockdown until the rest of the city is cleared.”

“Hazar has also made a connection with Dorma on Olkarion,” Thace murmurs again. “They’re willing to send people here. To help.”

“Of course,” Larka says flippantly. “However, I would rather they not. We all need to remain vigilant at this time. We never know if she’ll head to Olkarion. The druids are now stationed there. We don’t know what she wants but we must presume that she’s after something.”

Romelle raises her hand as if she’s in a classroom from her seat across the dais. “But what if she’s just trying to get to safety? What if she isn’t after something?” 

Larka had thought of that, but her mother is too wily to just seek safe passage. She’s always thinking, always calculating, always maneuvering herself into a position of power. She’ll have goal. She’ll be after something. Larka’s gaze flickers over to Lotor who has been conveniently quiet throughout the meeting, but his eyes are still focused on her. Just as calculating. 

“No,” Larka says. “Her mind isn’t wired that way. She doesn’t care for her safety or she wouldn’t have tried to escape.” _She wouldn’t have wanted to constantly fling herself into the void._ “We’ll continue—”

A soldier clanks into the amphitheater, rushing down the angled aisle. When she reaches the dais, she plunges into a deep bow beside Ezor. 

“Your Imperial Majesty, Voltron has returned.”

Immediately, the tension in the room dissolves and a breath of relief fills the chamber. Even Larka breathes easily, the migraine slowly disappearing with the fresh news at her fingertips. 

“Just now?” 

The soldier rises from her bow. “Yes, they just landed.” 

“Thank you. Have them escorted here,” Larka says. 

“At once, Empress.” Like a grounded bird, the soldier traipses out of the filled amphitheater. She must be new. 

Larka taps her graceful fingers against the arms of the chair. A swell of nausea unfurls in her belly. She shouldn’t be so nervous, but she can’t help it. Her son is back. Voltron is back. Hopefully with Shiro. 

“I have come to the consensus,” Larka starts, a murmuring overtaking the chamber, “that there are people helping Honerva escape.”

“Why do you think that?” Kolivan asks. 

“She wouldn’t have been able to escape on her own. Everything—security, restraint, magic—was used against her. And yet still, she managed to claw her way out after biding her time. The only thing we had to combat that escape was the fact that she did not know that we knew she was going to escape. The only logical conclusion is that she had help.”

“Narti?” Ezor prods. 

“Doubtful,” Larka replies. “She is a powerful acolyte, a great apprentice to Honerva but she lacks the resolve. We’ve seen that. Frankly, I want Teams One and Two to divert their attention to tracking down Narti. I don’t want to treat her like an escaped prisoner, but I want her _here_ , _unharmed_.”

“Well then who could have been the one to release her?” asks Lotor, eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t just assume she had help without a lead,” Lotor says. 

“I just did.” 

Lotor lets out a loud chuff before leaning back in his seat. “You must be touched in the head. You can’t accuse random people that—”

“I’m not accusing anyone. I’m not accusing anyone on our side,” Larka comments. “I’m accusing someone who does not belong, whose working for the other side.”

“Sendak?” Thace prompts. 

“Why not? He has all to gain from—”

The doors to the amphitheater slide open again revealing Team Voltron. Larka’s eyes narrow instantly. They all look scrubbed clean, too clean, like they’d been in sleeping pods healing for who knows how long. The paladin uniforms and armor look entirely too pristine, the white shining beneath the natural light streaming through the open ceiling. The only one who looks remotely drained of his life force is Coran and Larka has no doubts that he had probably hastily shoved Ryou and each paladin into a sleep pod to heal. But at least Shiro is safe.

Larka’s eyes narrow again at the sight of the Blade beside them. He wears a wary expression on his face, eyes glancing at Kolivan before turning away. Larka looks a Kolivan, who appears nervous. Larka’s brows furrow in question but her old friend does not answer her. 

“We brought a prisoner,” Keith says suddenly. 

“Where?” Larka asks. 

“Gnov is being escorted to the prison,” Keith replies. “I asked for double the guards…but…what’s going on?”

“She’s missing,” Larka retorts. 

“What?” the paladins nearly screech in unison. 

“Honeva is missing. We can’t find her, but I want a Task Force created. One designed specifically to track her down.”

“Let me lead this Task Force,” Lotor says. 

“No,” Larka remarks, shaking her head, “I want you solely focused on healing Zarkon. Your Sincline project also deserves your attention. You’re too busy. Let me handle this, brother.”

Lotor is about to say something else when Keith interrupts. 

“Where is Akira?” 

“Don’t worry, she’s safe,” Thace answers. “She’s with Dayak and Mick.” 

Keith and Shiro breathe easier, too. 

“What happened?” Larka asks brusquely. “On Sendak’s ship?”

“We got caught,” Pidge replies. “But at least we got out before he put all of us in the arena.”

“What?” A murmuring takes over once more.

“Torture, almost maiming, imprisonment,” Hunk lists. “You know, the usual when it comes to Sendak.”

More hushed whispering and Larka feels her migraine come burning back to the forefront of her head.

“Tell us everything.”

And so they do. About getting caught by Ranveig and escorted to the cells. Keith’s desperate trial against Sendak which he gets reprimanded for. Larka and the others learn about Guz and the other Blades that were dispatched by Kolivan. Kolivan gets chastised for that, too. It finally falls into place, how Kolivan truly learned about Shiro’s location. They had men on the inside the whole time. But what chills Larka to the bone is when Keith divulges all the intel, on the maps and data that included security protocols, that Sendak had of Gal and its allies.

She is right. There is a mole. 

“I’m thinking that the same person feeding Sendak information is the same person who released Honerva,” Larka remarks. 

Lotor finally has the good sense to look compliant. _It makes sense, right?_

Larka rubs at her temples and Kolivan looks at her with unease. She rakes a hand through her hair again. 

“I want everyone dismissed,” Larka announces. “I wish to speak to my son.” 

“Larka perhaps he should rest…” Thace starts.

“I can rest afterwards, Papa,” Keith says. “This is important.”

Slowly and with much annoyance, the large room empties. Larka watches as Shiro places a hand on Keith’s shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Keith nods tightly. 

Finally the room is empty save for the two of them. Larka stands from her throne as Keith walks down towards her. They embrace, Larka curling her arms around Keith as Keith nudges her shoulder with his nose. 

“I’m glad you’re safe, son,” she says, squeezing his shoulders too before pulling away.

Keith lets out a sigh. “I thought I could take him on.”

“One day you’ll be able to.”

Keith looks away before turning back. “So, we’re both on the same page?”

Larka nods. “There’s a mole.” 

“Another one. Maybe even more.”

“What’s your theory?”

Keith sighs. “The spy is definitely working for Sendak. But I’m thinking there are more than one and that they’re druids. Only they would be able to teleport in and out. Only they would be able to bypass magical security. Plus, Gnov said that there were druids that sided with Sendak.”

Larka nods again, face tense. “Unfortunately, I was thinking the same thing. I’m hoping Solthro doesn’t have rogue agents.”

“If they’re working for Sendak and helping Honerva, I doubt that they’re Solthro’s. He’s loyal to you and to Earth. We can’t deny that.”

“You’re right. So is Lotor. We can’t go accusing our allies, but we must question everything,” Larka recites. “Knowledge or death.”

“Knowledge or death.” Keith looks away for a longer moment. 

Larka scrutinizes him. “What’s wrong? Did something else happen? What did…” _What did Sendak really do to you?_

“We managed to save some of the other prisoners. They’ll need housing,” Keith continues. “Perhaps we can send them to the Balmera.”

“We can see what their jobs were and station them in the Coalition appropriately.” Larka takes a step back. “Something else is bothering you. What is it, Kythel?” 

“Sendak…he just…he just got into my head is all.”

“He has way of getting under people’s skin,” Larka murmurs. “Trust me, I know.”

“He wants you and Lotor,” Keith remarks.

“What?”

“I don’t fully know why, but he’s grown obsessed with getting the two of you. He wants to make an example out of the both of you.” Keith nervously shifts on his feet. “We’ll find out why though. Without losing anybody else.”

~~

Keith meets up with Shiro at the Fortress. After the amphitheater was searched and cleared, the Fortress was handled in the same manner. Security had been upped, the guards mingling around every entrance, alert and watchful. They nod as Keith entered the building, trailing behind him as he headed to his room.

“How’d it go?” Shiro asks Keith the moment he steps through the door. Akira is held in Shiro’s large arms, her head nosing at his neck in need of comfort. 

“Well,” he pauses. “My mother believes me. She thinks it herself.”

“The druids?”

Keith nods. “Gnov confirmed it. The data confirmed it. Just like we have spies on his side, Sendak has spies on ours. It’s up to us to figure out what else is going on.”

Shiro clears his throat. “That reminds me,” he starts, gently placing Akira down on the bed. She immediately rolls herself over. “I think that you should become the permanent black paladin.”

Keith sighs. He knew this conversation was coming. Part of him wants to have it, the other part wants him to shove it away. 

“You know I won’t be able to do this,” Shiro adds. “I _can’t_ keep doing this.”

“I know.”

“I wanted you to take it easy at first but…”

“But what?”

“Your time in the Quantum Abyss proved that you didn’t need the break I thought you did,” Shiro says. “I’m sorry I made you take it easy. I thought—”

“Shiro, you don’t have to apologize…”

“I just think that if I hadn’t—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Keith repeats. “I understand. You and everyone else were just looking out for me.” He takes a step closer, grabbing Shiro’s hands and entwining their fingers together. “But let me look out for you too. You don’t have to be the only strong one.”

“I know that now,” Shiro murmurs. “Besides, now I can have my time with Akira. I want to be on the Castleship with you. I know you may think it’s unsafe, but it would be good for Akira. To see what her parents do. To see the universe. To see—”

“Marry me?” Keith asks before he can bottle up the words again. “I know I said I would do it properly and maybe one day I can but...I don’t want to go through this again. I don’t want to ever be separated from you again.”

A blush creeps across Shiro’s cheeks, a giddy grin settling in. “You don’t have to get down on one knee with a ring if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s definitely what I’m worried about,” Keith says and then Shiro is kissing him. His lips are chapped but it doesn’t matter. It’s sweet and gentle and it makes Keith dizzy just like the first time he kissed Shiro. He releases their hands and thumbs at Shiro’s cheekbones, curling closer, smelling salt and mild sweat. Shiro’s hands tangle in Keith’s hair, blunt fingernails carefully scraping over his scalp, pulling him closer until they’re flush against each other.

“Papa?” a soft girly voice mutters. 

Keith’s eyes flash open, meeting Shiro’s surprised expression with question. They both look over to Akira who is bouncing on the mattress with unsteady legs. 

“D-did she…? Is she…”

“I think so,” Shiro replies with a broad smile on his face. 

Keith can’t help but smile back.

\--

Keith and Shiro spend the rest of the evening with Akira. Feeding her, helping her walk, coaxing her to say words once more. She manages another _papa_ but not much else. Still they’re proud of her. It’s when Shiro and Akira have fallen into an early slumber that Keith thumbs open his communicator on his wrist device. He types out a simple _Are you awake?_

No less than ten ticks later does he receive an _Unfortunately._ which makes him chuff aloud.

_You in your usual place?_

_Where else would I be?_

Carefully getting out of bed, Keith undresses and redresses into a pair of black pants and a matching shirt. He readjusts his fingerless gloves. He slips into a clean pair of boots that Mick and Krolia bought him and leaves the room quietly. Traversing through the Fortress, Keith ignores the soldiers who nod his way. Once outside, he breathes the fresh air and sighs. The streets are busy, people cloistered around each other, talking loudly and openly. 

All of it having to do with Honerva. 

Keith finds his way to the science building, more specifically Lotor’s laboratory. The doors open for him automatically. There, standing by his worktable, is Lotor. Zarkon’s sleep pod sits in the center of the room, undisturbed. 

“Did they hide him away at least?” Keith asks. 

“Welcome back,” Lotor answers without looking up. “And yes, they kept his pod moving.”

“Good.”

An uncomfortable silence fills the laboratory until Lotor finally speaks again.

“Let me guess: you and Larka believe druids are behind her disappearance?”

“You think differently?”

“I agree. Wholeheartedly. They target during a shift change, manage to unwind the magic that Larka and Dorma have weaved, and they let themselves in. It’s logical.”

“Good,” Keith repeats. “I’m glad you—”

“Now, what are we going to do about it? I doubt Solthro had anything to do with this.”

“Gnov said that there were druids working for Sendak. They could have gotten her out for a specific reason. One that benefits Sendak.”

“You think he’ll use my mother?”

“I think that she has her own agency,” Keith says. “She’ll tell Sendak where to stick it, forge her own path.”

Lotor laughs breathlessly before turning around. “She still needs to answer for her crimes. She’s still a criminal to the Galra Empire. Our Galra Empire.”

“I know that. All I’m saying is—”

“That she’ll escape even their clutches?”

Keith nods. “I’m going down to the cell to find any clues they may have left behind.”

“What will you find that the guards or Krolia have not?” Lotor asks. 

“I have a feeling someone is waiting for me.”


	21. Omega Shield, Part One

The air is frigid deep down underground. Colder than Keith expected, empty and desolate. The cell in front of him is vacant, too, as if someone hadn’t been living there for the past couple of phoebs. 

“Where to start, where to start,” Keith murmurs under his breath. It’s such a sparse location that he can’t even imagine Honerva leaving behind any clues. It’s the consensus now, that she did have help; and whoever had done it, had been careful and meticulous.

Despite the chill, it isn’t damp and dank save for the dripping faucet in the cell. Had Honerva been washing her hands just before her escape? Was she doing mundane tasks around her prison? The bed is made, sheets pulled tight around the edges, or maybe she hadn’t slept in it the evening before. 

Keith sighs loudly. What had he expected coming down here? For Honerva to leave a trail or some neon sign in the direction she had left? Keith sighs again. 

A soft mewl echoes in the cell and he looks down. Kova stands, weaving between his feet, rubbing his soft fur against Keith’s boots. 

“Kova,” he says, kneeling down to gently stroke over the top of his head. “I thought you would have made the grand escape, too. Or were you left behind?”

Kova purrs. 

“Left behind it is,” Keith murmurs. 

There is a sudden shift of air that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Even Kova’s hackles raise as the chill sets in, a ruffling of cold air breezing the back of their necks. 

From the shadows, Narti emerges. Keith stumbles back, nearly tripping over Kova in surprise. 

“Narti…” Keith trails off.

_Hello, Kythel…_

It’s an eerie sweeping of words that he hasn’t grown quite accustomed to. 

“I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

_I was waiting for you._

“Why not Lotor?” asks Keith. 

Something shifts across Narti’s strange face, it tenses and she turns her head towards the ground as if suddenly bashful. _Part of me feels like I’ve betrayed him._ A pregnant pause. _It was easier to come to you. You’ve changed._

“How so?” Keith asks, prickled by her words. 

_You are much more patient than Lotor ever could be._

Keith wants to say something Shiro would say, something full of wisdom and intellect but all he can say is: “Oh.”

Narti walks closer until they are both facing the empty cell, Kova dancing almost playfully around their feet. Unusual for his usual standoffish behavior. 

_I should have been honest with you. I apologize._

“It’s okay,” Keith says automatically. “You just need to be more forthcoming now. Regain people’s trust in you.”

_If I had known she would have done this…I would have—_

Keith shakes his head before looking at Narti’s hooded face. “Don’t think about that. We’ll work together now. Lotor will forgive you. And you have your teammates. They’re going to need you now more than ever.”

Narti looks at him questioningly. 

“You’ve been spying long enough,” Keith says. “I’m assuming you know about Project Sincline. Lotor will need another pilot.”

Narti’s tail whips around excitedly. _Are you sure?_

“I’m not the only one who has changed,” Keith murmurs. “Lotor’s done a lot of growing, too. Trust him and he’ll trust you.”

Nodding, Narti places a hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezes. _What will we be doing about Honerva?_

“My mother is setting up a task force. They’ll be the ones who will be searching for Honerva. Until then, we have to assume she had help and that they’re hostile towards us. Gnov is in the next cell over,” he pauses, pointing to the wall beside them. “We caught her before finding Shiro. She said that Sendak has druids loyal to him.”

_W-what?!_

Keith nods. 

_What are we going to do? You think they’re the ones who freed Honerva?_

“It’s the only logical conclusion,” Keith murmurs. “Sendak may want something from Honerva and sent them out to retrieve her. Or…”

_Or what?_

“It could be something entirely different,” he says. “They could be loyal to her and wished to free her. Regardless, now that she’s free she may be after something herself. We have to be prepared.”

_Prepared for what?_

For a tick, Keith lets the silence fill the room, carefully mulling over his next word.

“War.”

\--

It’s something that’s dwelled on his mind for a while. They’ve always been at war. Battles after battles. Skirmishes after skirmishes. Undercover missions after undercover missions. But something’s different in the air. There’s a finality that Keith hasn’t felt before. Sendak is their enemy. He may not be the one pulling the strings (Keith has another theory about that. One that he won’t even broach with his mother.), but he’s the one collecting data on Larka’s Empire. He is the same enemy that kidnapped Shiro and tortured Allura. The same one that almost killed _him_.

Keith shudders as he enters the gymnasium, Narti following closely. 

After leaving the prison cells, Keith had messaged everyone. Not only did he have a surprise, but it was a good idea to build camaraderie if they all worked out together. It had been such a long time and with the additions of Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, and Lotor forming Team Sincline, team building would work in their favor.

“Lotor,” Keith says, striding into the main gymnasium. Allura and Pidge are jogging around the indoor track while the others are gathered around Zethrid and Acxa who are doing competitive handstand push-ups. “I found you your fifth pilot.”

Lotor looks over, an edgy smile on his face as he spots Keith and then Narti, Kova nervously sitting on her shoulder. 

For a second the gymnasium goes quiet, even the other Blades and civilians spending the day working out seem to come to a halt as they watch the tense scene. 

Keith can cut that tension with a knife. 

Lotor takes a few steps forward, towards them, hand outstretched. “Welcome back.”

Narti nods tightly, hand slipping into Lotor’s. 

“Why don’t you hug already?” Zethrid shouts obnoxiously. 

Lotor doesn’t need more prompting. He takes a firm grip of his oldest comrade and pulls her into an equally strong embrace. It doesn’t last too long; Lotor has never been the most tactile person and Keith assumes Narti is the same. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Hunk says. “After this we can go eat, right?”

“We can all cook together,” Shiro replies. “I’m sure that will help us with our team building exercises.”

“Or Hunk can just take over,” Pidge murmurs. 

“We’ll all help,” Lance gently chides. 

Pidge lets out a harsh sigh. “Fine.”

And so, some normalcy returns. Working with two teams would seem difficult but everyone blends together quite well. Shiro spots for Zethrid. Ezor helps Pidge lift weights. Narti begins to rebuild her trust with Lotor. Of course, Allura and Lance pair up, but Keith and Acxa manage to rope Hunk into running laps with them. Ryou shows up thirty minutes late with a milkshake in one hand and a plate of steaming food in the other, opting to sit out and watch. 

“This was a good idea,” Shiro says during one break as they gulp down mouthfuls of water. 

“What was?” Keith asks. 

“This team building exercise with…exercise. Gets everyone’s aggression out.”

“Yeah, everyone except Ryou,” Keith chuffs. “He’s extraordinarily lazy today.”

Shiro chuckles. “I’m serious though. This was a good idea. Thanks, Keith.”

Keith smiles. “You’re welcome.” 

“And onto other ideas, I was thinking…”

Keith winces. “Thinking what exactly?”

“With me and Coran copiloting the Castleship while Ryou pilots it, I was thinking when Akira isn’t with us, that Dayak can pitch in. I mean…with her talking and walking now, maybe it would be good to have a tutor for her.”

Keith eyes widen. “You want Dayak to tutor Akira?”

“What?!” Lotor shouts from across the room. “What are you two talking about? She’s a lunatic.”

“Stay out of that,” Ezor counters loudly. “Daddy and Papa are talking.”

Keith rolls his eyes, ignoring the back and forth banter. “Are you sure about this? Are you serious that you want someone else to—”

“We’re working now,” Shiro says. “Yeah, I’m taking more of a backseat, but she needs the education and we aren’t on Earth right now. I wouldn’t mind if Dayak took over for a bit.”

“What about Dad? He can take care of her for a little bit longer, right?”

Shiro shakes his head. “Mick is going to want back in the field. We can’t depend on your parents for everything. Plus, Dayak would be willing. She did well with Lotor.”

“Like Lotor says…she’s a lunatic. Crazy strict! Knowing Akira, she could have disciplinary problems like me—”

“Akira has half my genes. We can just pray that she has my patience.”

“Patience yields focus,” Keith murmurs lowly.

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro repeats. “She’ll take that to heart, especially if she has Dayak looking out for her.”

Slowly, Keith relents. “Fine, but the moment something happens—”

“What could possibly happen?” Shiro deadpans. 

“I don’t know,” Keith pouts. “But the moment something does, I’m putting her into one of the academies.”

“She’s too young for that,” Pidge says, wandering over and slurping down the rest of Ryou’s milkshake. “Just homeschool the tyke until she’s old enough to throw a toddler punch. She should be good to go.”

“Thank you. For your input. Pidge.”

\--

The teams decide to work out together every evening when time allows them to do so. For the next few movements, all is calm. The task force sent out searches far and wide. They search the planet, the forests teeming with wildlife. They search every village, all the outskirts, circling around the world until they arrive back in the city. They restart their search there. Emptying out buildings and homes, scanning through lesser used side streets. On one particular sunny day, the market is ransacked. 

“They’re getting too vicious with the people,” Keith hears Thace say to Larka that evening. They’re seated in one of the Fortress’s living rooms sorting through bills on several datapads. “You need to curb them.”

“We can’t find her if we’re meek about it,” Larka counters, somewhat aggressively. She sounds stressed.

“We’ve never harassed civilians before,” Thace chides, his own tone taxing and filled with worry. “We shouldn’t start now.”

Keith leaves his father to rein in his mother, hoping that Thace’s words make a meaningful impact.

It is three weeks after Narti reveals herself that Sendak makes himself known. Teams Voltron and Sincline have gathered in the gymnasium near the stands. It has become their new meeting spot. 

“Hazar just got a message from the Omega Shield Station in orbit around the colony known as Talderax,” Lotor explains, a hum of excitement percolating through the large group. “Sendak’s fleet destroyed a sector of the station and quickly left the scene. They—the station and the colony—are currently trying to restore operations, but they need help.”

“What is the Omega Shield Station protecting?” Allura asks.

“The base itself and the colony from a radiation storm,” Acxa replies.

“Like I said, they’re going to need all the help they can get. However, Sincline is not complete yet. Voltron will be on its own.”

“When is the next radiation event?” asks Pidge. 

“In two vargas,” Lotor says, stoic, his gaze fixed on them. “You’ll have to act fast.”


	22. Omega Shield, Part Two

Talderax is a small planet hidden behind a nebulous cloud of stardust, constantly assaulted by radiation. It’s a wonder the people still live on this work colony and Keith wonders why the military installation hasn’t been deactivated yet. The first thing Keith notices through the front glass of the Castleship is that the plates protecting the colony are broken, previously wedged together like honeycomb it now forms a fray of metal panels slowly drifting apart. 

Keith curses under his breath. 

The second thing he notices is Sendak’s warship blasting through a piece of metal. A spray of shrapnel drifts farther into space as the installation tries to protect itself with its own cannons. 

“I thought Lotor said that Sendak left,” Lance says nervously.

Keith gets out of his seat to pace closer to where Coran and Shiro stand at their consoles. 

“He hasn’t noticed us yet,” Shiro murmurs.

“How are we gonna handle this?” Pidge asks. 

“Same way we handle everything,” Keith replies matter-of-factly. “Get to your Lions.”

They move to their lifts and then catapult down their ziplines until they reach their appropriate hangers. All the while, Keith feels something is off. Why would Sendak be back? Why would he be here when he just left? Unless he was circling his prey like a shark, avidly waiting until they completely lost a grip on the base and then the colony. Keith checks his wrist device; just an hour and a half left before the next radiation event. The clock keeps ticking and his anxiety still rises.

“Keep the communication link open, Coran,” Keith orders as he slips into the seat of Black’s cockpit. “If you get hailed by the base, patch us through. I want to talk to the Commander. I have some serious questions about the purpose of this place.” 

“Do you want me to contact him now?” Coran asks. 

“Is that wise?” Hunk adds, his own voice anxious. 

“Not yet,” Keith murmurs. “They’re fending off the attack. Let’s help them.”

The next few minutes are a blur to Keith as he works instinctively with Black. They fly through the debris and around Purification ships, firing on anything that gets in their way. Allura takes a beating but manages to freeze a few cruisers who erupt from the belly of Sendak’s warships. Hunk aids Pidge in protecting the disabled shield while Lance circles around, weaving effortlessly around the debris in hopes of aiming at the warship. 

“We’re getting an incoming transmission,” Ryou mutters into the communication link. “Coran, patch them through.” 

There’s static through the link before it smooths out and a deep, familiar voice fills Keith’s ears. 

“Paladins of Voltron, still well I see.”

Sendak. 

“Drop the link.” Keith grits his teeth and immediately static fills his ears again. 

“Did we just hang up on Sendak?” Hunk sputters. 

“Yeah, we just did.” Keith tightly grips his controls and leans to the left, narrowly missing a chunk of metal. The last thing they need is to get distracted by Sendak who only wants to pull their strings, yanking and twisting until they’re unfocused and preoccupied by his cruel words.

A tick passes and something strange happens. Sendak’s main warship, heavy and sturdy, slowly swivels around. The tiny cruisers move hastily to rejoin the larger ships. Another tick passes and they disappear, blasting through hyper-space.

“What just happened?” Pidge asks after a long pause. 

“Did he just order a retreat?” Allura asks. 

“He’s done enough damage so far,” Ryou comments. “I don’t doubt this is some ploy to get us to follow him. What’s the plan?” 

“Let him go.” Keith eyes narrow as he glances at the small timer projected on his holo-screen. They have less than a varga left to help— 

“We have another message coming through,” Shiro says, patching them in directly. 

“Paladins of Voltron,” says a new deep voice. “We thank you for your help. We are lucky that you arrived in time. I am Commander Bogh.”

Keith lets out sigh, grateful that it wasn’t Sendak again with a taunting message. Even if some part of him is needling away at his own nerves, trying to figure out why the warlord disappeared like that. Keith casts his eyes over at the timer again. Sendak probably thinks that the radiation storms will kill them. 

“We don’t have much time,” Keith says. “How can we help?”

\--

It turns out that the shields have been decimated due to Sendak’s two attacks. They attempt to fix them, push them and realign them back into place. They freeze the pieces hoping they’ll stay before melting the metal, but it still wavers, unable to seal itself even with the help of Team Voltron. 

They’re finally greeted by Commander Bogh when they dock the Lions in the military installation’s hanger. He doesn’t like the Castleship so far away, but its shields are up, tucked behind a cloud in the atmosphere of Talderax. 

“Why hasn’t this labor colony been deactivated?” Keith asks the moment they step foot onto the hanger where Bogh and his lieutenant await them. They are flanked by guards, each of them looking wearier than the next.

“Keith.” Allura reprimands him for his brashness. 

Bogh has the good sense to look mildly ashamed as he tugs nervously on his ear. “Prince Kythel,” he says. “I had no idea that you had rejoined Team Voltron.” 

_You had no idea I’d be here,_ Keith thinks. _To oversee what you’re all doing._

“Warlord Sendak has been dogging us for movements, attempting to have us join the Fire of Purification,” Bogh continues. “I—and my subordinates—have pledged our allegiance to your mother and Queen Allura. After those several movements and a rather timely discussion with Sendak, he began provoking us incessantly, requiring us to pay a tax to him for his merciful safety from lesser warlords. I knew he was talking about Empress Larka’s reign, so we refused. Finally, he attacked us today. He’s disabled our shield. Without it we cannot protect the citizens of Talderax.” 

“The unpaid workers?” Keith prompts, smug. 

Bogh nods and his lieutenant visibly bites his tongue. 

“How has this base been flying under my mother’s radar? She won’t like the fact that you have indentured servants mining their own planet.”

“Pardon my interruption, _Kythel_ , but there are plenty of other military installations loyal to your mother who continue the work of her father,” the lieutenant, Lahn, says harshly.

“And each one of them will be dealt with accordingly,” Keith says. “Including your own. We’ll be evacuating the citizens and the soldiers of this base. We’re taking you all back to Gal.”

There’s an audible gasp to his right and he wagers that it’s Lance.

“To face war crime charges?” Lahn spits. 

Keith shakes his head. “No. For your safety. Pidge, contact Coran. Tell him to land with in the city limits and begins the evacuation. People have fifteen doboshes to retrieve their things.”

“That doesn’t seem like a lot of time, Keith,” Hunk says. 

“They don’t _have_ a lot of time.”

“Prince Kythel, Lieutenant Lahn means no disrespect,” Bogh murmurs calmly. “We only wish for the safety of the people.”

“Then this is the only way.”

\--

“What was that back there?” Shiro asks as the ship flies through the nebulous cloud and they walk side-by-side down the corridor towards Shiro’s room. It’s not nearly as packed as he thought it would be, but the ship is still crowded with the civilians of Talderax and the Galra soldiers. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You just left that planet without even trying,” Shiro criticizes. “And you didn’t even consult the team.”

“That base was still operational when it should have been disbanded phoebs ago,” Keith remarks. “You’re seriously going to argue with me on this? They were using indentured servants to mine the colony. Their own planet. You want me to back down from something like that.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Shiro says. “I’m _telling_ you that you should have talked to the team.”

“We were working on a tighter schedule than usual, Takashi.” 

Shiro scoffs before placing his hand on the keypad outside his room. The door slides open and they cross the threshold. It silently closes behind them. 

“That could have gone worse than just losing a planet,” Keith murmurs. “Sendak circled around once. He came back to wipe them out! If we had gotten there any later, he could have circled back around a second time. We’re lucky we got those people out when we did.”

“I’m not going to question your leadership, but—”

“Then why are you?”

“Because you didn’t question whether you should have done what you did,” Shiro grimaces. “You could have at least talked it through with Hunk or Lance. Instead you just—”

“You’re angry that I was dishing out orders?”

“No.” Shiro finally sounds exasperated.

“Then why are you upset with my choice?”

“We could have at least tried to repair the shield some more and salvaged that planet. The radiation may have been strong enough to destroy said planet, but we could have at least tried.”

“We were running on a varga of time,” Keith bemoans. “Maybe if Sendak didn’t try to wipe them out a second time, we could have repaired the shield, but that wasn’t the case. I made the best decision by initiating an evacuation protocol.”

Shiro looks at Keith sourly.

“Just next time consult with the team,” Shiro says brusquely. “It just feels like…like…we’re losing—”

“Like we’re losing ground?” Keith prompts. 

Shiro sighs. “Yes, like we’re losing ground.”

It’s the first major territorial loss they’ve had since losing the Marmora Headquarters and leaving behind many of the prisoners on Sendak’s dreadnought. Keith doesn’t doubt that that’s what truly is bothering Shiro. At the very least, it’s bothering him too. But how many times had Shiro or Ryou pulled rank on them all? Keith had followed orders then. Shiro could do the same in this instance for him. Yet he acknowledges that this is slightly different; they had to abandon an outpost. They may have gained the power of Oriande, found the secrets of the Quantum Abyss, built the Sincline mech…but that all meant nothing if they couldn’t protect the small outposts at their borders. It meant nothing if they couldn’t protect their people from Sendak and his traitorous regime.

“I’m just trying to juggle all of this, okay?” Keith murmurs. “Voltron, my position at court…I’m trying to balance it all. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me. You have to trust me on this.”

“Keith, we just lost a planet. We were lucky we got those people off, but Lahn said there are countless other military installations that we haven’t even accounted for. We’re going to have restart everything. Freeing planets _again_.”

“Then that’s what we’re going to have to do,” Keith pauses, “or we can send out transmissions to every outpost. Demand that they remove their control over those colonies! Allow the people to come back home to Gal.”

Shiro sighs once more. “That would be a better idea than going planet to planet. If they’re loyal to the current leadership of the Galra Empire, they’ll do it. But if not—”

“We seize control of those bases and add a few people to our prison cells,” Keith finishes. “We’re spreading ourselves too thin again. Once Sincline is operational it will lessen our grief but until then those military bases need to fall in line with the laws written by my mother and her council.” 

Within the next sixteen doboshes, they make it back to Gal’s airfield in one piece. The civilians and soldiers are taken to one of the administration buildings to clear processing and begin to get settled. It’s then that Keith goes back to the Fortress with Shiro. They find Akira playing with a few toys under the cool gaze of Dayak. She dismisses herself wordlessly as they enter Akira’s room. 

A broad smile—Shiro’s smile—erupts across Akira’s face the moment she spots them.

All is well. For now.


	23. Reaper

The next phoeb passes and in that time Team Voltron deactivates all outposts still functioning as mining colonies. It takes four movements to do but many of the commanders acquiesce, stripping the mining colonies of equipment and indentured servants and returning to Gal. Many of those servants are then taken to the Balmera or Olkarion, given a job, housing, and a living wage—something that they were not given before. After processing, some even choose to stay on Gal, integrating with the already Galran and Altean populations.

It takes those four movements to get everyone situated, less time than it took when they originally liberated colonies. However, there are commanders who disagree—more willing to follow through with Zarkon’s previous ideals than willingly bend the knee to Allura and Larka. Those flee, searching for any signs of Sendak’s fleet. 

Sendak himself has chosen to lay low, hiding between planets and stardust, planning his next execution. There are some sightings of him around Marmora communication outposts, but as soon as he arrives his fleet disappears just as quickly. This worries Keith, an unsettling feeling slides deep into the pit of his stomach. It was just like he and Shiro had discussed: they were losing ground. Not at an alarming rate, but still just as bad. If Sendak tried to attack any of their other main bases, if he tried to attack the Fortress or the Castleship…it would be a mean blow to the coalition ranks. 

Keith adjusts the collar of his burgundy tunic, running a hand through his loose hair afterward. He sighs, readjusting the collar once more. It feels strange to be in Galran formalwear. His gaze catches on the gold thread embroidered at the cuffs before shifting back to the mirror. He grabs the stray brush sitting on the vanity and runs it through his curved strands, trying to smooth out the little cowlick that still sticks straight up. Giving up, he places the brush back on the table and begins braiding his hair. 

“Do you need help?” Shiro asks, coming through the attached doorway leading into Akira’s room. He is dressed in a matching dark purple tunic and black trousers. 

Keith is halfway done with the braid and he shakes his head, a few strands coming undone to frame his face. “No, I have it. Is Akira ready?” 

Shiro nods, readjusting his own collar. “Yeah, got her dressed and she went straight back to sleep. It’s way past her afternoon nap.”

“Yeah, well Princess Akira is going to have to make her rounds around the town square today,” Keith teases.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. If you don’t want to, we can just stay home today. We’ve done a lot for the past month.”

“This is important to Lotor,” Keith gently reminds Shiro. “He’s unveiling Sincline at the festival today. I thought you’d be more excited about something like this.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I am,” Shiro pauses. “But I know how taxing these things can be for you and with Honerva—”

“Let’s just try to make this a good day,” Keith interrupts. “No talk about crazy grandmothers, annoying commanders, our taxes. Let’s just have a chill day.” 

Shiro tightly nods but still looks deeply unsettled, hyper-aware for what could go wrong. But Keith’s mother had been planning the revelation for weeks, excited by the prospect of another defender. Excited by the prospect of going into the rift. 

“Hey,” Keith prompts, tying the end of his braid with a burgundy ribbon. “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with my mama do you?”

“With Larka? What do you mean?”

“She’s just deeply invested in this project and the stress of it all…I mean, whenever I see her with my parents, she’s always arguing with them.”

“I think she’s stressed, Keith,” Shiro tries to assuage him. “I think she’s overworked and unused to the job, but she’ll get used to it. She’s probably the most levelheaded leader the Galra Empire has had in a long time.”

Worry crosses over his face but quickly dissipates the moment Shiro places a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Shiro says, deliberate. “If you’re worried she’s becoming like Zarkon, I doubt it. Because as far as I’m concerned, I don’t think Lotor would allow her anywhere near the rift.”

“And what about him?” 

“Lotor?”

“Yes, if he goes in the rift, doesn’t he face corruption?”

“We’ll deal with it when we cross that bridge,” Shiro replies. “Nothing bad will happen. They’ve been planning this mission for months. There are contingency plans, protocols, if anything remotely looks off, we’re pulling the team out.”

Shiro’s words wash over Keith and for a moment he believes them.

“Alright,” Keith says. “I won’t worry too much about it.”

“Good,” Shiro murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Keith on the temple. “I’ll get Akira and then we can go.”

\--

Keith must shake a hundred hands before he even enters the city’s northern square. It’s busy, Olkarions and Balmerans traveling from their planets. Puigians traveling from just as far to arrive early. Every species of alien has gathered to see the unveiling of the new defender. Although Keith had his reservations with so much already on their plates, he’s still enthusiastic, enthralled by the new idea.

Fairy lights and floating lanterns are already lit around the perimeter of the square with countless dim floating lanterns above. Decorations adorn the outdoor patios with their curved arches and sweeping open rooftops. There’s a central area where food and drinks are being served with large lawns and courtyards used for sitting with their cushioned seats and backdrops of sheer curtains for privacy. It’s lush and extravagant and his mother went all out for this. 

He shakes his head, smiling. 

He catches Zethrid’s eye, who already feasts on a bountiful plate. Acxa and Ezor are heading back to the cushions that Zethrid has commandeered. 

“Let’s go say hello,” Keith says, looking over at Shiro.

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting Akira to his Galra arm as she wriggles to get down. 

As they get closer, Keith sees Pidge in the corner of his eye, tugging on her brother’s shirt and pulling him down a large alleyway that’s been filled with festival games and booths. A handful of tickets are already stashed in her green tunic’s pockets. Lance and Allura are talking to Romelle and an elderly looking Altean at the dais where Sincline stands tucked beneath dark sheets. Keith can’t see its details, but Sincline must be the same size as Voltron. Keith spots Shay entering the city square with Hunk attached by her side. They’re giggling at something as they head to where the food is stationed. Coran, on the other hand, is already there, serving himself a large helping of some sugary glazed pastry, skipping the main course altogether. The only person Keith doesn’t see is Ryou. 

“Where is your brother?” Keith asks Shiro, as they get closer to where Acxa and the others are.

“I have no idea,” Shiro says, taking Keith’s hand with his free one. “I saw him leave the Fortress early though.”

“Hey!” Ezor waves over to them.

Keith waves back. 

“What brings you over here? I thought you’d be meeting so many new ambassadors,” Ezor starts, a mischievous look on her face. 

“I think I’ve had enough of that for one day,” Keith replies. “Familiar faces are much better.”

Ezor’s face softens, almost mockingly sarcastic. “Wow, that is so touching.”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “Where’s Lotor and Narti? I thought they’d be here.”

“With Larka and Ryou, I think,” Zethrid says as she inhales bites of her food.

“Why is Ryou with them?” Keith asks. 

“He’s playing bodyguard for the day,” Acxa says. “Mom’s got him stationed with Mama and Lotor, just in case they attract any unwarranted attention.”

“That’s noble,” Shiro says.

Ezor shakes her head, taking a sip of her frothy purple drink. “Not at all. I think he’s getting paid.”

Shiro hands Akira over to Keith with a promise that he’ll go get their meals. Akira lasts about one tick before she is wiggling to get down. This time Keith places her on the ground and she takes a few wobbly steps in Acxa’s direction, giggling and cooing as she finally makes it over to her aunt. Acxa stiffens for a moment before gently tugging the cub over to her, letting Akira lean against her side. 

“Her tails getting longer,” Ezor smiles. “I’m surprised you didn’t snip it.”

“Why would I _snip_ it?” Keith settles down on a free cushion beside Acxa so Akira is wedged in between them. 

“Usually those who have snipped tails, snip their own kid’s tail,” Zethrid says, taking a hasty swig of her drink. 

“Slow down. You won’t miss out on seconds.” Ezor nudges her, but Zethrid brushes her off in favor of another sporkful.

“Can we stop talking about docking baby’s tails, please?” Acxa asks, blanching. “I’m eating.”

“I’ve seen you eviscerate a grown male two times your size,” Zethrid laughs, “and a little docking turns your stomach!”

Keith rubs his temples, almost considering picking up Akira and making a run for it. But Shiro returns with two plates balancing on his Galra arm and hand and a cup of whatever Ezor’s drinking in his other hand.

“We can share,” Shiro says, “or I can run up and get another glass.”

“No,” Keith replies. “This is good.” He helps take the plates from Shiro to let him sit on his cushion. 

“So, what were we talking about?” Shiro asks, clueless. 

“Nothing,” Acxa and Keith say in unison. Ezor falls into a fit of laughter while Zethrid continues eating.

Everything is normal. They eat, they joke around. At some point Zethrid gets up to get her well deserved seconds. Pidge arrives to see Akira with food smeared all over the cub’s face. Ezor leaves with her to get a look at all the games. Allura and Lance make their debut, the both of them dressed in Altean formalwear made of blue and pink silk. Hunk and Shay come later with their own plates filled with second servings. Their private area becomes larger, laughter filling the space. It feels good, in between all their hard work on Voltron and Sincline, all their training together over the past phoeb…it feels good to just relax with friends and family for once. 

It all comes to a standstill when Lotor and Larka come to the dais, flanked by the higher echelon of Blades, Narti, and Ryou. A few council members—Janka, Raht, Solthro, Ladnok, Dayak, Mick—arrive to stand behind them. 

Immediately and without much flourish, Sincline is revealed. While Voltron is built like a tank, Sincline is all smooth lines and curved edges, sleek and glossy. Clearly designed for stealth missions. As Keith had thought before, it stands just as tall as Voltron. It’s gray and black and blue and orange, forming an almost serpentine, phantom-like form. Eerie. 

It is Lotor, dressed in his uniform, who takes center stage. “I am please to announce that the project to build Sincline, a new and advanced defender, is completed. After much peacekeeping and even more delay, we have completed the construction of five ships that will be controlled by five pre-selected pilots. It is outfitted with twin energy blades, lasers functioning as energy blasters, an ion cannon, and a bladed tail. It is powered by quintessence with the option of using the synthetic blend.”

There’s movement off to the side of the dais, but Keith can’t see what exactly is going on.

“This is an important step in helping Voltron,” Lotor continues, voice eager. “Voltron cannot be in two places at once. The paladins of Voltron cannot be in two places at once. But with a second defender, one that can separate into five complete ships, we will be able to defeat Warlord Sendak and protect the rest of the universe.”

The crowd cheers, elated with this new prospect and even Keith feels relieved. But guards have formed around the base of the dais. He can see them clearly now. Was it for extra protection? His mother doesn’t seem bothered by them, even if Ryou is casting skeptical looks at them every now and again. But Larka seems unfazed, completely overzealous because of the new defender.

Suddenly, she takes center stage, standing right beside her brother. “As previously planned, there will be a mission to enter the inter-reality plane at the ruins of Daibazaal and siphon the pure quintessence at the site. This is a safe and liberating conquest, as we will have the upper hand against Warlord Sendak and his hateful regime.” 

More cheering. And Keith can’t help but let worry saddle itself in the pit of his stomach. Unsure of the guards gathering.

“I would only hope that you citizens of Gal and the Voltron Coalition will support this endeavor,” she continues. “This will be the next step in securing a power source more natural than synthetic.”

More cheering.

“What is going on?” Lance murmurs. “What’s with the guards?”

“I have no idea,” Keith replies, picking up a twisting Akira and settling her on his lap.

“ _However_ ,” Larka starts again, casting a long look in Lotor’s direction. “If anything is to go wrong. If we are met with beasts that brought us to this point long ago. If the Sincline ships cannot take the voyage, the mission will be cancelled immediately, the project discontinued.”

A silence fills the courtyards. 

“I know what happened to my mother and father the moment they went into the rift,” she says solemnly. “I know what became of them and I fought tirelessly for that to not happen to another soul ever again.”

Keith stiffens. He hadn’t expected that. 

“There is a large risk that comes with this mission, but I hope that all of you will support us nonetheless because without each and everyone of you, we cannot do it. None of us can do this alone. Which was the fatal flaw that led my parents down the path they chose.”

Larka’s gaze flits across the crowd and finds his own. 

“Together we are strong,” she says fervently. 

She has the crowd in a daze, and everyone quickly repeats those words including Keith. “Together we are strong.”

Finally, the guards must gain her attention because both she and Lotor are climbing down the stairs of the stage and are escorted behind a sheer curtain. Keith can barely see them furtively talking to the head guard. The rest of the dais clears, with the council members and Blades melding into the crowd. He spots Thace and Mick heading in his direction, Krolia and Ryou already following Larka and Lotor. 

“Something’s going on,” Allura murmurs. 

Keith idly hands Akira over to Shiro before rising from the cushion. 

“I’m going to talk to my dads,” Keith murmurs. “I’ll be back.” 

“Be careful,” Shiro says, pulling a tuckered Akira closer to his chest. 

Keith nods. “Acxa, come with me?”

“No problem,” she says rising from her own cushion. 

The two of them meet up with Thace and Mick a little off to the sides of the patio. 

“What’s going on?” Keith asks, eyebrows furrowed together in question. 

“I’m not sure,” Thace says. “The guards pulled your mother aside. Wanted to talk to her in private.”

“We should follow them, then,” Keith states. 

Thace tightly nods and the four of them head towards the sheer curtain, passing between two billowing sheets. 

Even though it’s finally dark out, that lanterns and streetlights illuminate the path. It’s also not so difficult to spot the large group moving ahead of them. The guards circle around Larka and Lotor while Krolia and Ryou take up the rear of the group. The path widens and breaks off into a fork. They quickly take the right side leading towards the science building. 

“Where are they going?” Mick asks anyway. 

“Science building,” Acxa murmurs. “You think something happened with—”

Keith cuts his gaze to Acxa, silencing her. He doesn’t want to think of that. Something happening to Zarkon’s body. It could be rejecting the quintessence transfusion. It could be convulsing, dying. And then what had they been attempting to do for the last few months? Resurrect a dead man? They had been hoping so much that this would work. If a quintessence transfusion could help heal Zarkon, the most corrupted Galran of them all, it could work for the rest of them. But now…

Keith’s group follows the others into the science building, finally catching up to them in Lotor’s laboratory. 

Lotor is tapping at the holo-screen embedded above Zarkon’s pod. A steady beeping fills the air. Larka is at a console, tabbing through screens. They both have their hair already tied up into haphazard buns atop their heads. 

“What’s going on?” Keith asks the moment the four of them enter the room. Guards are posted outside while a few mill about in the laboratory. Krolia and Ryou are looking at Zarkon, his skin pale and dry.

“It looks like he may be rejecting the quintessence,” Lotor murmurs, scrolling through all of Zarkon’s vitals. “His body is fighting it off.”

“What can we do?” Mick asks. 

“Nothing right now,” Lotor says, looking anxious. “We can only hope that his body stops and it can continue on with the process.”

“It should be nearly complete,” Larka says unexpectedly. “We were hoping he would be out of here last movement, but…”

“Apparently his body has other things in mind,” Lotor says brusquely. 

“I have Protocol Number Five set up on the console,” Larka says. “Do you want me to execute it?”

“No,” Lotor says over his shoulder. “Let’s just see how his vitals go. If they remain steady—”

Suddenly, the beeping grows faster. 

“Maybe you should—”

“Alright execute it,” Lotor interrupts Larka. 

“What’s Protocol Five?” Thace comments.

“It’s the process to shut down the quintessence transfusion,” Larka says, looking at her husband with a steely gaze.

“But that would mean…” Krolia trails off. 

“He dies.” Ryou finishes. 

Larka taps away on the keyboard, shoulders stiff as she works. Lotor continues to watch Zarkon’s rapidly declining vitals. 

“There’s something going haywire with Zarkon’s pod,” Larka says, tapping away. “It won’t allow me to shut down the transfusion.”

“What?!” Lotor hisses, turning around to look over Larka’s shoulder. “What do you mean it won’t shut down? Move over.” He nearly pushes Larka aside to begin the typing sequence over again. 

Larka sighs, moving to look at Zarkon in the pod. Her eyes widen. Krolia and Ryou take a surprise step back. Keith raises his eyebrows in question.

“I’m going to have to do a manual override,” Lotor says. 

“Lotor,” Larka mutters.

“Hopefully, once that happens, I can redo the sequence for the protocol.”

“Lotor,” Larka murmurs. 

Krolia and Ryou take a large step back and Keith can finally see his grandfather completely. His eyelids are fluttering; his fingers are twitching. Keith takes the few steps to the pod and stares down. 

“If not, we can pry open the pod. Maybe that will work.”

“Lotor!”

“What?!” he shouts angrily. 

“His eyes, they’re opening.”

“What?” he nearly shouts again as he comes over to stand by her side. 

Keith’s heart almost stops as he witnesses Zarkon’s eyes flutter open. Hazy and treated. Yellow sclerae. Red irises. 

He’s awake.


	24. Aphelion

Keith’s heart plummets into his stomach as he watches his mother diligently help Zarkon up from the pod. She had cleared out the room to give them privacy only leaving Thace and Keith, along with Lotor who looked on with a furrowed brow and an angry grimace. Krolia and Ryou had left with the guards, irritated. Currently, Zarkon was clinging to Larka’s shoulder like a newborn fawn, unsteady on his feet as he sat up. The shroud of cloth he wears clings to his sweaty, heaving body. His own brow is furrowed, eyes wide, pupils dilated. His skin crawling to a pale lavender, clammy as he shivers through the last dregs of quintessence withdrawal. 

The room is silent, save for Zarkon’s teeth chattering in the humid laboratory. 

“Father, are you alright?” Larka asks.

Zarkon blinks slowly, ignoring Larka in favor of digging his nails deeper into her shoulder. Thace stiffens beside Keith, hand almost reaching for his blade. Keith had left his own back at the Fortress before leaving for the festival. It should still be going on right now and he hopes Shiro isn’t too worried. 

“Father?” Larka repeats. “Are you alright?”

Zarkon blinks again, confused as he struggles to sit upright, leaning in towards Larka. Lotor stiffens as well, eyes narrowed warily. Keith sees a million emotions cascade over Zarkon’s face in the moment, none more so than guilt. Keith wonders if he’s seeing things, if past events are coming back in a whirlwind of visions. Does he see what he’s done? What he’s done to his people and his family and to every civilization for the past ten thousand years? 

Zarkon licks his dry lips, grip tightening on Larka’s shoulder, making her wince. Thace takes a step forward but she shakes her head. 

“Just give him a little space,” she murmurs softly. 

“He’s been given enough space as is,” Lotor grits out. 

Larka shoots him a chastising look, but he shrugs, eyes still narrowly focused on Zarkon. 

The warlord opens his mouth once, closes it before sinking into Larka’s half-embrace. Another creek of emotion floods across his face: guilt and anger and resentment. 

“What is happening?” he finally asks, withdrawn yet clinging to his eldest child.

Everyone is silent. His voice sounds different, less harsh, a quiet solemn gasp in the damp air. His teeth chatter once more before falling silent. 

When no one answers, he asks again, “What is happening?” 

“Father,” Larka says softly, dragging the palm of her hand up and down his back in a soothing gesture. “We…Lotor preformed a procedure on you. A quintessence transfusion with the help of my synthetic formula. It was the only way to induce a withdrawal period and cleanse you of the corruption. It’s something that we can now use on all of us. Lotor saved you.” She pauses to look at Lotor, his cheeks stained violet. “He’s saved all of us.”

Zarkon falls quiet once more, his hand tracing down to encircle around Larka’s upper arm. 

“Thank you, son,” Zarkon croaks. 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Lotor mutters immediately, irritated. “I hoped you would remember everything you’ve done but it seems—”

“I do,” Zarkon says suddenly, head snapping up to meet Lotor’s gaze. “I remember _everything_.” 

Keith feels his heart drop a second time, his stomach flipping nervously. His palms grow sweaty and he has to grip his father’s arm to regain his balance. It feels like a blow to his abdomen. Zarkon sounds so broken and guilt-ridden. But something holds Keith back from saying much. 

“I must apologize for everything,” Zarkon says. “I’ll atone for my sins. I can promise you that—”

“You think simple apologizes can erase the countless acts you’ve done in the name of tyranny,” Lotor starts. “The families you’ve destroyed. Your own family that you’ve destroyed by continuing down this path. I don’t know what possessed you and Honerva…to put you in some kind of cryo-state—and frankly I don’t care—but you have no idea what we’ve had to do to get to this point. The things Larka and I have done to each other to get some semblance of peace. 

“ _Do you_ have any idea how we got to this point?” He rages on. “Larka almost lost her life finding you. We’ve lost important outposts because your mad dog, Sendak, has been attacking us at every turn. You left a power vacuum in your wake. And for what? For the great Zarkon and high priestess Haggar to hide away from their dark actions?

“I have no sympathy for you. Allura made me promise that you’d remember everything that you’ve done. To her, to her people, to every world out there. And I’ve kept my promise. But no promise you keep could ever be fulfilled.”

“Lotor,” Larka murmurs. “Enough.”

“You would allow him to get away with what he’s done?” Lotor asks, incensed.

“Of course not,” Larka says softly. “But we mustn’t—” 

“Must not what?” Lotor prods. “We must not speak the truth? I thought your ilk were all about unveiling the truth.”

“Lotor, enough,” Thace finally cuts in. “Let the two of us take a walk.”

Lotor bristles for a moment before finally heading towards the door, Thace quickly following with a tight nod in Larka’s direction.

“Your brother is right, Larka.” Zarkon says after a heavy pause. “I have committed unforgivable acts. You should not forgive me so easily.”

Larka stiffens. “Who says I have?” 

Zarkon looks up at her. 

“I do this out of familial obligation. Lotor _is_ right, but we have too much on our plate for us to be harping on acts already carried out. I am leading the Galra Empire now. You can either fall in line or be tried in my court.”

“Larka…”

The Empress lets out a breath and Keith does the same. Wordlessly, Keith aids Larka in helping Zarkon on to his feet. They take him to the connected washroom. They help him out of the shroud and into some fresh trousers and a clean tunic. They wipe the sweat from his face, lotions his skin in some vain attempt to get the purple color back. Larka orders a guard to retrieve some broth from the kitchens of the Fortress. He returns just as Thace and Lotor arrive. Quietly and under much scrutiny, Larka feeds sporkfuls of thin broth to Zarkon until half the bowl is gone. Finally, Larka puts the bowl down watching as some of the color returns to Zarkon’s face. 

“Where is your mother?” he asks, solemn.

“We were holding her in a cell after she tried to kill Allura,” Thace explains instead. 

Zarkon visibly winces. 

“She went missing some time after that,” Larka adds. “We have reason to believe that she had outside help. I’ve sent out a team of Blades to search for her.” 

“I admit,” Zarkon starts, “that I should have been sterner when it came to Honerva’s wishes. We were so eager, overzealous…obsessive…with newfound knowledge but we lost sight of what truly mattered. Family and honor.”

Larka looks away sourly before turning back towards him. 

“There is something we should discuss.”

“Larka,” Lotor says. 

“He should know what we’re trying to attempt,” Larka counters. 

“What?” Zarkon prods. “What is it?”

“We’re planning to go into the inter-reality plane,” Larka announces.

“With or without your blessing,” Lotor adds. 

“You must not,” Zarkon says, bereft. “I am living proof that something horrible can happen. If you travel through what is left of the rift, you can be corrupted. Just like what happened to Honerva, to me. There is something within the rift, something that warps all who venture into it. Cosmic beasts that seek control, isolation, death, and eventual corruption. You must not go through with this, Larka.”

Silence fills the laboratory. 

Abject horror covers most of their faces at his claim. _Cosmic beasts? Like the ones that infiltrated Daibazaal?_ Keith thinks. Something crosses over his mother’s face before her features smooth out into impassiveness. 

But it’s Lotor who speaks. 

“We’ve been working towards this goal for phoebs,” he says. “We won’t be deterred by the words of a frightened old man. What we had to do as teams in the Quantum Abyss and in Oriande…you couldn’t comprehend.”

“This mission will bring about an era of prosperity, Father.” Larka says. “We will get it right this time.”

Zarkon does not look convinced and neither does Thace. 

\--

“He’s awake!” Lance shouts the next day as the two teams gather in the lounge of the Castleship. 

“Unfortunately,” Lotor says under his breath.

Keith shakes his head. “This doesn’t change anything. We’re still following through with our original plans. We’re going to attempt to get through the rift. Acxa, is the gate finished?”

“Construction is complete,” Acxa replies. “We just need to install it at the ruins of Daibazaal.”

“Should take about a movement,” Ryou remarks. 

“How is _he_?” Allura asks suddenly. 

Lotor sighs aloud, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a seat in between Keith and Acxa. “Larka has him under lockdown in the Fortress.”

“Why isn’t he in a cell?” Allura continues on, a frown tugging at her lips. 

“I thought we had agreed that he would remember everything,” Lotor states. “He has.”

“That isn’t enough,” Allura comments. 

“We agreed, Allura,” Keith says. Allura and Larka have always been two sides of the same coin. They had the same goals and desires, but they always seemed to deviate from each other’s plans. No matter if the plans led to the same outcome. Allura wants Zarkon locked up but Keith knows his mother believes the best way to hold his leash is to give him _some_ semblance of freedom. Even if he’s watched over by ten guards. 

Allura stands, her own arms crossed over her chest. “We locked up Honerva and she got out. Now we have Zarkon and you want him to walk around freely?”

“Allura…” Shiro murmurs, warning. 

“She’s right,” Lance interrupts. “For ten thousand years, he’s had the universe as his playground. Stripping planets of their quintessence, performing genocide on countess worlds…and now we’re just going to let him go?”

“He—” Keith starts.

“Stop making excuses for him, Keith,” Lance interrupts again. “We can’t move forward if we’re always having to watch our own backs.”

“We’re watching each other’s backs,” Keith grits out. “We have our goals. We need to work towards them.”

“We _need_ to lock Zarkon up in a cell,” Lance blurts. 

“So that he can escape, too,” Ryou scoffs. “No one is saying that he should walk around with all his freedoms.”

“He’s under a lot of scrutiny as is,” Hunk says, quiet and mumbling under his breath.

“Maybe we should at least have a public hearing, to ensure that he’s punished sufficiently,” Pidge adds sternly. 

Keith pinches his nose. “We can’t just—”

“Are you and Lotor so against this because you’re related to him?” Lance asks, sudden and with a grimace on his face. 

“Lance, that isn’t it…”

“Then what is it, Keith? Because your mother says so?”

Everyone tenses, even Allura. “Lance,” she murmurs.

“We’re sending Sincline into the rift as its first job. The rift! When we should be focused elsewhere!”

“Like where, Lance?”

“Going back to Earth!” Lance shouts. “We have soldiers down on the ground there. They need our help. The Garrison needs our help and instead we’re heading into some unknown realm. We know the risks and still we’re heading into it.”

“Voltron isn’t heading into it though,” Ezor gently reminds. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance counters, glaring at Lotor. “Voltron _and_ Sincline are needed elsewhere and we’re playing backup to your pet project.”

“Where is this coming from, Lance?” Shiro asks. “We all made the decision to—”

“Well, I’m taking my vote back.” Lance grits his teeth. “We have Sendak on our asses. What happens when he goes for Earth? What then?”

“That’s why we have soldiers there right now,” Hunk says.

“I think you should calm down, buddy,” Pidge murmurs.

Narti turns her head towards Zethrid, who nods tightly. 

“So, what are you proposing?” Zethrid asks for Narti. “That we postpone this mission?”

“No,” Lance says darkly. “We should scrap it entirely.”

Lotor rests his palms against his knees, fingers digging into the fabric of his black trousers. “We’re not doing that.”

“Why? Because you said so? Because Larka said so?”

“No, because I said so,” Keith says, tucking a strand of stray hair behind his pointed ear. “I need you as my second-in-command, Lance. I need you to stand by me, but if you can’t I won’t force you.”

“You’ll sit me out?”

“No,” he repeats. “You’re the paladin of the Red Lion. I can’t take your spot away from you. I’m asking you to stay on with this mission. I’m asking you to follow my orders on this, to follow _my_ lead. Not Lotor’s, not my mother’s. Mine because I think this is the best path forward for us right now. We can’t keep reacting to Sendak. We can’t keep waiting for him to make a move, we must take action. We have to keep moving. It’s difficult. Team Sincline will be going somewhere dangerous. Team Voltron may be playing as backup. But that’s what we have to do. We have to watch each other’s backs out there. Because no one else will. All of us. We’re all a team now. We have to act like it.”

He knows Lance’s concerns stem from a place of deep worry. He knows he sounds selfish right now. He knows that there is a possibility that this may not be the best plan. Focusing on the pipeline has many pros but it also has many cons. Corruption being their biggest enemy. One that may be worse than fighting Warlord Sendak.

Regardless.

They must persevere. 

“Are you with us, Lance?”

The paladin stews, hands tightening into fists. Allura rests one of her own brown hands atop Lance’s knee and squeezes. She gives him a soft smile. “Don’t let my concern about Zarkon get in the way of our future. Let’s see this through.”

Her forgiving words must spark something within Lance because his fists loosen, his face growing slack with relief. 

“I still think that we should lock Zarkon up,” he states matter-of-factly. “He was our enemy. But…”

The room seems to draw in a deep breath. 

“I’m with you until the end,” Lance grits out.

For the rest of the week, the teams prepare. They restock the Castleship, charge the Lions and the Sincline ships with quintessence fuel, they run team drills every morning and afternoon. They run through routines and flight simulations that Krolia graciously installs in their ships. When the evenings come, they are all so out of energy that Keith and Shiro flop lazily on their bed and don’t wake until dawn arrives the next quintant. Towards the end of the movement, Keith takes time off to spend with his mother. He watches over her as she tends to Zarkon: visiting him every so often to feed him, bathe him, and clothe him. It gets to the point that Mick and Thace must persuade her away from him. Krolia, ever watchful, distrusts the whole situation. Zarkon had vocally repented, but he has yet to act.

 _And that’s what bothers Lance,_ Keith thinks one afternoon as he helps Zarkon into his clothing.

“You do not have to assist me, Kythel,” Zarkon murmurs as he shucks one arm into the tunic.

“You shouldn’t sleep so much,” Keith says, even though he knows the transfusion took a lot out of Zarkon’s body. “We’ll get someone to help you so that Mama doesn’t have to do this all the time.”

“A servant?”

“Things have changed since Mama’s taken over. We don’t have so many servants anymore. People work, they get paid, they live with their families.”

“Where is Larka right now?” Zarkon asks. 

“Helping prepare the Castleship with Krolia, Thace, and Mick.”

“Her partners?” Zarkon prods curiously.

Keith shifts uncomfortably as he smooths the tunic out over Zarkon’s broad shoulders. 

“My mother’s relationships don’t have anything to do with you,” Keith says. “Please refrain from asking.”

He steps away but quick as lightning, Zarkon’s arm shoots out, his hand grasping at Keith’s wrist. 

“Reconsider,” Zarkon says. 

“What?” Keith warbles. 

“Reconsider this journey you are about to take,” Zarkon says. “Ignore the rift. Stay here where you are needed.”

“Grandfather…”

“Tell your mother you’ve reconsidered and deemed this unacceptable,” Zarkon pleads. “If you continue down this path, you will fall.”

“Is that a threat?” Keith’s eyes narrow.

“It’s the truth.”

Keith pulls his hand away from Zarkon’s.

“Look at what has happened to your grandmother,” Zarkon continues. “You need to focus on this quintessence transfusion. Find your grandmother, find Honerva, and force her to undergo the same procedure. All of our people should have this procedure done. Only then will we be able to move on as a people.” 

\--

Zarkon’s foreboding words stick with Keith as the Castleship flies through space. Not only was he against this mission, but Lance was as well. Perhaps he should have listened. Perhaps he should have turned back.

 _Patience yields focus,_ Keith recites in his head. _Patience yields focus._

“You okay?” Shiro says, walking towards him. The bridge is busy with both teams flitting around checking the communication links and getting ready for dispatch. 

“Yeah, just nervous about letting them go…”

“They’ll be fine,” Shiro says, kissing Keith on the forehead. 

Keith checks the time on his wrist device once before rising from his seat. In front of them, in the great distance, is the newly constructed gate. Waiting eagerly for Team Sincline. 

“Look alive, people,” Keith starts. “I want Team Voltron ready to eject in case something goes wrong. Sincline crew head to—”

A beeping sound takes over the bridge, loud and obnoxious. 

“What is that?” Ezor says over the noise. 

Zethrid has covered both of her big ears, shielding them. “Turn it off.”

“I-I can’t do that,” Coran stutters, hands fluttering over the controls of the front console. Shiro immediately comes to his aid. 

“Is that a distress signal?” Ryou asks, irate.

Everyone looks up at the screen that pulls up in front of the glass. The picture pixelates for a moment. 

“What are you doing?” Keith asks. 

“We’re trying to patch us through,” Shiro says. 

“Where is the signal coming from?” Pidge asks, worried. 

Slowly, Coran turns around. “Gal.”


	25. Firewall

The first thing Keith sees as they come through the portal is the encapsulation shield debris. The planetary shield’s plates are cracked, busted and spreading through space. Some of it even manages to spew into Gal’s atmosphere, hurtling down towards the city and surrounding villages. It’s a great maw and Sendak’s ships are entering it, invading at incredible speed. The Castleship’s bridge is quiet, the silence stretching long and languid out before him. If he could just get his feet working, make one move forward, perhaps he could get out of this trap of stillness. 

_Akira is down there,_ the thought pierces through Keith’s head and it’s enough to jump-start his heart into action. 

In front of him, Coran and Shiro have opened up all frequencies, hoping that the distress message can reach them. All they hear is static.

“I’m trying to make it clearer,” Pidge mutters brusquely. Keith wonders if perhaps she can read minds like the druids. Has she been training that hard?

Keith’s mind goes a mile a minute, unwilling to slow down and think. To process what is happening. Another warship manages to break through the armor protecting Gal. The gray plate cracks, splitting into two as it drifts apart. 

Finally, the staticky message blares loudly in Keith’s ears. It’s a standard message, one not specifically requesting help from Voltron. 

“Gal requesting help,” Hazar’s recorded voice streams through the audio. It crackles and stutters. “To anyone out there, Gal requests help. Mandatory evacuation…” the audio goes down and then stutters back to life again, “…we are a peaceful civilization. We require help. Gal is under attack.” Hazar’s recording is without the urgency of an emergency; instead it is calm and collected. 

Sendak’s ships haven’t locked down on the Castle of Lions yet, their entire focus on destroying the encapsulation shield. His dreadnought has moved into position, the ion cannon shooting a ray towards another crack in the armor. 

“We need to get down there,” Keith starts moving towards the lift that will take him to Black.

“We don’t have a plan,” Hunk surmises.

“Yes, we do,” Lotor says, following Keith’s lead and heading to the exit. “Attack those Purification ships. Take out as many as you can.”

“We can form Voltron,” Lance comments, but Lotor is already leaving. Everyone heads to their battle stations and hangers. 

Keith is on autopilot as he reaches the Black Lion and is climbing into the cockpit. He takes off before anyone else can, zooming through inner space. He jostles forward a bit, hands readjusting around the controls as a Purification fighter locks on him. The rest of the fleet must know they’re there because one of the cruisers begins to slowly swivel in the direction of the Castle of Lions. The particle barrier is up as it shoots some of its own targets. 

He hits the thrusters, pushing forward and forming his jaw blade. He narrowly escapes a hit to his right flank, continuing on until he wedges the blade into the side of a cruiser and begins to quickly drag it across its port side. An explosion detonates within the ship as it breaks in half, slicing open like a wounded animal with its entrails bleeding out. Keith lets go of the toggles for a tick to take off his helmet and chuck it to the side. He wipes the sweat beading at the top of his head with the back of his glove. He’s breathing heavy, his heart pounding like it’s never done before. This isn’t some planet that they’ve previously saved, this has been his new home and it’s under attack. And his daughter his helpless upon it. 

“We should form Voltron,” Lance says into the communication link. “This isn’t the Wild West, Keith. We need to come up with a plan.”

Keith blasts through a few more fighters, seeing Allura in his peripheral vision as she ices an enemy. Tree branches erupt from another fighter as Pidge zeroes in on the fleet. He can’t see Hunk but he can hear him shouting through the communication link. 

Lance is right, they need to come up with a plan. 

“Lotor,” Keith murmurs. “You there?”

“I hear you.”

“Can you guys form Sincline and go after the cruisers? Your speed should allow you take them out faster,” Keith pauses. “We’ll focus on the ships breaking through the shield.” And there are so many of them. One is already preparing to enter Gal’s atmosphere. 

“Yes, we can.”

Keith lets out a breath of relief. “Voltron, we’re going to focus on those ships breaking through the shield,” he repeats. 

“Roger that,” he hears echoed through the communication link by the four others.

Keith flies closer and closer, past the mangled parts of the encapsulation shield. He opens up a new frequency as he takes out another fighter with the whip of his tail. “Hazar? Come in, Hazar?”

There’s a crackling of interference and then silence. Keith watches—near defenseless—as the ship preparing to land knocks out the communication tower and remaining satellites. Keith presses down on the thrusters, jostling through the atmosphere. He sees Pidge to his right, but she stops short as another fighter intercepts her, knocking her through the air. 

“You okay?” Keith mutters.

“Fine,” Pidge says quickly before blasting through the jet. 

“Black Lion to Castleship, we’re going to make some room for you,” Keith says. “Aid in the evacuation efforts. Sincline’s got the sky. On your six, Hunk.”

“Thanks, Keith,” Hunk breathes.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs. “Akira.”

“I know,” he answers. “I’m heading to the Fortress now.”

On the way down, the Lions take out the straggling Purification fighters, focusing their energy on making a clear path to the landing pad while Sincline covers from above. It takes a few doboshes, but the Castleship manages to land at the airfield. Again in his peripheral vision, he sees the Galra pilots scrambling to reach their own fighters. He sees Thace’s jet take off…or at least he hopes it’s his father. Even while they were caught unaware, hopefully the Blades are assembling some sort of resistance to back the evacuation. Imperial cruisers start to lift off from the airfield as the Castle of Lions lands. 

Keith opens up another well-used frequency. “Papa? Come in?”

His voice sounds feeble to his own ears.

He’s met with static. 

Sendak’s focus on Gal’s communication has been fruitful for him. He’s knocked out communication between Gal and Team Voltron and Sincline. Keith’s swerves around a falling Purification fighter, watching as the Imperial ships fight back. 

“I’m heading to the Fortress now, Shiro,” Keith repeats. 

“Be careful,” Shiro replies, his own voice sounding stricken with fear.

Keith manages to land near the Fortress just as the first firebomb strikes down on the western district. It bursts into flames, buildings collapsing like a house of cards. Another bomb strikes down in the same district. 

“Shit,” Keith breathes. This isn’t just an invasion; it’s an execution. 

He runs out of the cockpit and out of the Lion’s mouth before taking the main street in front of the Fortress. People are screaming around him, running and yelling. He sees one man looking for his child, but he can’t seem to find her in the chaos. 

Another firebomb drops. This time in the eastern district. More screaming erupts through the crowds. 

“Head to the Castleship!” Keith screams into the crowd but he can’t seem to get their attention. Swallowing around the dryness in his throat, Keith leaps over a low wall and cuts through the front gardens. Guards have swarmed around the entrance, many of them entering and exiting as they please.

Keith grabs the arm of one of the guards, yanking her to the side. 

“Get these civilians to the Castleship,” Keith says. “Now. That’s an order.”

“At once, Your Imperial Highness,” the guard bows at the waist before corralling her group and heading into the fray. 

Keith enters the Fortress, forcing himself through the throng of people. He climbs the great staircase up to the second floor and scoots to the side as a group of guards come pacing down the corridor. They nod at him as he passes. He doesn’t even bother nodding back. He needs to find his family. He needs to find Akira. He’s passing by Pidge’s bedroom when he sees a group of bedraggled maids tearing down the hallway. 

“Get to the Castleship. It’s safe there,” he mutters as they pass him. 

It takes a few more ticks until he reaches the bedroom he shares with Shiro and walks in. It looks the same as they left it that morning, bed unmade and clothes tossed across the back of the armchair. The maids clearly hadn’t gotten to his room yet. Pidge’s was a handful on its own. Keith shakes his head, crossing the length of the room and entering the connecting room to Akira’s nursery. 

His breath hitches in his throat. 

Empty. 

No sign of Akira or Dayak. 

He tries to use his communication link to reach his mother or Dayak, but nothing patches through. 

“Half the city is on fire!” Someone screams down the hallway. Keith licks his lips nervously. 

_Patience yields focus,_ Keith thinks. Where could they be? Halfway to the Castleship by now if he had been with them. 

“Where could they be?” Keith haphazardly runs his gloved hand through his hair. “Where could they be?”

“The lounge,” Lotor’s voice comes streaming through the communication link. Had he spoken out loud? “Check the lounge, Kythel!”

Keith is quick on his feet, traveling back down to the first floor and into the depths of main entrance hall. He sees Gnov, Throk, the cloned Sniv, and a bunch of other prisoners being escorted out of the Fortress. Gnov is cackling loudly before she’s hastily shoved in the direction of the exit. Keith rolls his eyes and heads down the opposite corridor. The lounge doors are open, and he lets out a breath of relief despite the fact that it’s Zarkon who is holding Akira in his arms. The holo-screen is on, playing some news frequency from a star system away. Completely unaware of what is happening on Gal this very tick.

“We need everyone to get to the cruisers in an orderly fashion,” Krolia remarks. 

“We’re never going to be able to evacuate the entire city in time,” Larka says. “Not when he’s dropping firebombs on us. Half of the western district is reportedly gone. How many people were living there?”

“We’ll get out of here, but we’re going to need—” Krolia stops talking as the entire Fortress shakes. 

“What the hell just landed on us?” Mick sputters. 

“I have no idea,” Krolia answers, looking up at the ceiling and the gritty dust that drifts down. 

“Have the cruisers been dispatched to the outside villages?” Larka asks. 

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” Dorma replies. “We’re clearing the hunting villages as we speak.”

“What about the farmlands around the city?” 

“They’re next,” Dorma says quickly as another quake rocks through the Fortress.

“Where’s Papa?” Keith asks, all eyes on him.

“He’s confirmed to be in the sky as we speak,” Krolia answers, not missing a beat. 

“I’m having some of the citizens evacuated to the Castleship,” Keith murmurs, eyes catching Akira’s pouting face. Her expression is drawn, eyebrows furrowed, tail wagging nervously. 

“That’s good,” Larka mutters back, “but we still have the southern and northern districts to evacuate.”

“You need to head to the Castleship,” Keith says sternly.

“I’m not leaving this planet until our people are aboard those cruisers.”

“Mama, you’re the Empress. You need to be on the Castleship. Now.” 

“Kythel, I’m not—”

“Look who it is,” Mick says, pointing at the holo-screen. 

There, on the screen, is Sendak’s face. A smirk playing upon his lips. “Greetings, citizens of Gal. As you can see outside your windows, my ships have this planet surrounded. But fear not. This isn’t an invasion,” he pauses. “This is an indictment of your way of life. This is the destruction of your planet.”

Keith’s hands curl into fists as he stares at the screen. Sendak is so smug and arrogant and—

The screen goes back to the scheduled programming. He’s never been one for long words and flowery prose. He has a purpose and he’s executing it. 

“We need to leave, Larka,” Mick says. 

Larka purses her lips, staring at the holo-screen for a tick before setting her jaw. “Fine. We’ll leave.”

Krolia lets out a breath of relief. “Good. Listen, Dorma and I are going to gather some of the coalition rebels to fight off Sendak’s forces.” She turns to the guards left in the lounge. “You’re tasked with getting the Imperial family to the Castleship. Kythel?”

“I’m heading back to the Black Lion. They need me.”

“So, we’re all set?” Krolia asks, hurried. 

Everyone nods.

~~

Half of the city is indeed on fire. Flames shoot up into the sky, the smell of smoke and burning flesh filters through the air. Larka has to cover her nose as they pass through a narrow alleyway, two guards leading them. Another set of guards bring up the rear but the closer they get to the Castleship, the farther they trail behind.

Above them the paladins of Voltron fight tooth and nail, Sincline even disassembles to fight separately as another Purification ship lands down near the Fortress behind them. Despite all of this, the only thing Larka can hear over the sound of shrill screaming is Akira’s own shrill crying as she fidgets restlessly in Zarkon’s arms. For a moment, she almost thinks to take the baby herself, to soothingly hush her, but the sound of soldiers in the distance has her on edge. Every time the guards stop them, raising a hand to halt them, Larka clenches her teeth, waiting for the moment that Sendak will appear and rend her into two.

They round one corner, and then another. They make a left and then a right, snaking their way through the city and towards the airfield. They’re almost to the next district when crystal shrapnel from the gemstone garden atop the Fortress hits them, Mick shielding her body with his own. It’s then that they realize that the Fortress has taken a beating from one of Sendak’s ion cannons. 

The group is about to encounter another corner when one of the guards grabs Larka by the back of the neck and shoves her back against a stone wall. But she’s caught a glimpse of it anyway. Six civilians sit on their knees while a group of Purification soldiers pace in front of them. Zarkon has already got his hand covering Akira’s mouth and Larka is doing the same to herself. Her eyes are wide but blinking back tears as she hears the tell-tale sounds of gunfire and the slumping of bodies on the ground. Boots crunch against the gravel, traveling in the opposite direction. 

And then, Larka is peeling away from the wall, turning to the corner, and stopping short. The bodies look mangled from this angle. Bruises dot the purple Galra faces, tunics torn and singed. They must have come from the residential square of the western district. Regardless, their bodies are slumped over, purple-tinged blood seeping from their foreheads as they gaze up with open, dead eyes.

A hand presses against her shoulder and she turns to face Mick. 

“We have to go, Larka,” Mick says solemnly. “We have to keep moving.”

She nods hastily, wiping away the tears tracking down her cheeks. “Yes, let’s go.”

They travel through the city, entering the next district before taking a break. Only to watch in the distance as a gargantuan rod is struck deep into the earth near the Fortress. Whatever it is, it’s drilling a hole through the crust of the planet, seeping down, down, down. Another quake pulses through the city. 

“How long until we reach the Castle of Lions?” Zarkon asks.

“Another few doboshes,” the guard who grabbed her says flippantly. 

“We don’t know what that mobile machine is going to do,” Mick says. 

“It’s drilling down into the planet. I’m sure it’s going to destroy us.” Larka replies, hands clenched by her sides.

“Larka! Empress Larka!” Someone calls down the alleyway. 

Larka turns and she lets out a deep breath. 

Romelle. Flaxen hair messily pulled back from her face into a single ponytail. Dirt is smeared across her cheeks and forehead, her own hands dirty with soot. A group of Alteans run behind her. Merla and Tavo bring up the rear, helping Tavo’s father whose leg is bleeding profusely. Cosmo runs behind them, carefully nudging Tavo’s father along, worry written on his wolfish face. She’s never been so happy to see that canine than she is now.

“Romelle!” Larka greets, moving to embrace the girl. “Are you okay? How did you get out?”

“We went searching for you,” Romelle says, pulling back, her fingers tightening on Larka’s shoulders. “By the time we reached the Fortress, it was evacuated and they were setting up their war machine in the gardens. We ran into some people who said the Castleship is taking in refugees.”

Larka nods. “Where are those people?”

“We lost them on our way here,” Luka says, fear enveloping her face. 

“We can’t stay here,” a guard in the back says. “We have to keep moving.”

Larka’s gaze drifts to Cosmo. “We should teleport to the ship.”

“Cosmo will have to take us in groups,” Mick reminds her.

Larka nods. “Father, you take Akira and the wounded first.”

“I’m not going to leave you behind,” Zarkon says darkly. 

“You don’t have a choice,” Larka counters. “Go. Please.”

Zarkon looks at the wolf before turning his gaze back to Larka and nodding tightly. For the next few ticks, Tavo helps his father to Cosmo, placing his wavering hand down on the wolf’s back. Zarkon holds on to Akira tightly as he places his own shaking hand on Cosmo’s head. Cosmo makes a whining noise before disappearing in a flash. The wolf reappears in a dobosh as the city grows quieter. 

“Your Imperial Majesty,” a guard says. “You next.” 

Romelle and Luka place their hands on the wolf’s back as Larka grabs Mick’s hand and places her free one on Cosmo’s head. She closes her eyes, feeling the warm fur, the pull of teleportation. When she reopens her eyes, she’s on the Castleship. White walls and a huge throng of people greet her. The ship is packed tightly with more people streaming through the open doors. 

“Good boy,” Larka says to Cosmo. “Go back for the others and bring them here.”

The wolf disappears with another flash. 

Larka pulls Mick in the direction of the stairs where Zarkon stands with Akira. 

“Romelle,” she shouts over the crowd. “Wait for your people. We’re heading to the bridge to help.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Romelle calls back.

Larka pulls Mick with her as they squeeze through another swarm of people. 

“Should have had Cosmo teleport us to the bridge,” Mick says in her ear. 

“He has to bring the others back,” Larka murmurs.

They finally make it to the staircase only to see Tavo’s father on the ground, bleeding out. 

“You need to get him to the infirmary,” Larka says. “Put him in one of the sleep pods.”

Tavo and Merla nod, quickly hefting the old man up and throwing his arms around their shoulders as they climb the staircase. 

“Where are you going, Your Majesty?” Merla asks. 

“To the bridge,” Larka says. “They’ll need all hands on deck with the paladins of Voltron and pilots of Sincline in the air.”

“I’ll come to you once we have him in a cryo-pod,” Merla replies. 

“Let’s go,” Larka says to Mick and Zarkon. 

“Thank the Ancients, I’ve found a familiar face.” Hands embrace Larka from behind. She turns. 

“Kolivan! You’re alright,” Larka says, hands wrapping around her oldest friend. 

“I’m fine, but we need to get you to the bridge. Only Shiro and Ryou are there, and Coran is outside helping with the evacuation.”

~~

“Shit, shit, shit,” Pidge curses from her end of the communication link.

Hunk has just struck one of the warships and Keith watches shocked as it starts plummeting towards the planet. 

“We have to keep it up in the air!” Keith shouts.

“Why?” Lotor calls out. “It’s going down fast.”

“Even with Sincline’s super speed we can’t—” Lance stops mid-sentence as the ship crashes into the marketplace and the connecting southern district. 

Keith swivels Black around and watches as the machine beside the Fortress groans and drives deeper into Gal’s crust. It breaks apart, the planet cracking from the inside out. 

“How’s that evacuation going?” Acxa grits out.

“Not fast enough,” Ezor quips. 

“Keith, we got your mom and daughter,” Ryou says. “We’ve gotta take off.”

In the distance, he sees Sendak’s dreadnought turning, disappearing into hyper-space. He’s done what he’s wanted to do.

“He’s ordering another retreat,” Pidge says. “Should we go after him?”

“No,” Lotor and Keith say in unison. 

“We need to order our own retreat,” Hunk murmurs. 

Zethrid mutters in the affirmative. 

“What about the other cruisers and the jets?” Keith asks Ryou. “Are the cruisers up in the air?”

“Lifting off as we speak,” Ryou says. 

“And our people?”

“Coran is loading the last of them into the foyer,” Ryou replies after a long pause. 

“Good. Take off.”

The planet continues to crack like an egg splitting down the middle, but the ships are already in the air, the Castleship zooming past them. 

“Let’s retreat, Kythel,” Lotor says. 

Keith lets out a sigh, frail and shaky as he watches his home crumble like the ruins of Daibazaal.


	26. We All Fall Down, Part One

Keith finds himself adrift, following the slow ebb of the void. An unparalleled tug through the Cosmos. It’s enough to make him space sick. He spends much of his time with Shiro on the bridge as Dayak watches over Akira in the lounge. Her lessons have not stopped, even as tragedy has struck. Their small fleet consists of the Castleship and two large imperial cruiser-class warships. Nothing else made it.

They pass a tangled thorny section of space, an old outpost destroyed along with the rest of them. Sendak’s leisurely stroll through space has left nothing untouched. They slowly trail after him, unsure of what to do next. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees his parents—the four of them—gathered around Pidge’s seat, looking over her shoulder as she attempts to make contact with her own parents on Olkarion. Their transmission doesn’t connect and Keith fears that they may be too late. Would Sendak attack other large coalition outposts? 

Yes. Yes, he would. The unspoken words leave everyone on edge. Prickly and unwilling to talk to one another unless absolutely necessary. Even Shiro hasn’t spoken to him unless it has something to do with Akira. Everyone is still trying to figure out how to talk to each other. It hurts. 

“I think I’ve found something,” Coran says, abrupt and breaking through Keith’s reverie. 

“Found what?”

“There’s a planet,” Coran continues, “a quadrant away. It seems to be uninhabited by any highly sentient life. More flora than fauna.”

“Can we stop by?” Hunk asks. “I really need to stretch my legs.”

There’s a mumbling of agreement. 

“Ryou, you’re the commander of this vessel,” Allura says promptly. “What do you think we should do?”

From the dais, Ryou looks around the room. Keith knows he sees it: the tiredness, the anguish, the fact that no one aboard the bridge has had much sleep in the last eight quintants since Sendak obliterated Gal. And the survivors aren’t doing any better. They ask questions in the hallways, prodding Kolivan and Larka to tell them what the plan is but all they can do is hush them. 

How can they come out and just say, _we’re lost in space._

“I think we should take this chance,” Ryou sighs. “We don’t know when we’ll stumble upon the next planet that can take all our species.”

Hunk makes a thankful gesture to the heavens and then starts idly tapping on the screen in front of him. Keith makes eye contact with Shiro, who smiles faintly before returning to his work beside Coran.

Coran says sharply, “I’ll set the coordinates for this planet and activate the autopilot. We can get some well needed rest while we travel there.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Keith pipes up. “Shouldn’t we stay on the bridge?”

“We’re all tired, Keith,” Lance remarks. “We’re going to need all our energy when we get there to survey the surrounding area, right? Like I don’t want to do it, but it’s necessary.”

“But what if Sendak—”

“Brother,” Acxa murmurs tersely from her spot at the door. “Let’s take a walk?”

Keith takes a deep breath and nods. “Shiro, I’ll see you back at the room.”

“I’ll be there in a few,” Shiro says over his broad shoulder. 

Keith follows Acxa off the bridge and down the corridor, the walls spotless and white. She’s quiet as they walk past rooms filled with refugees. They spot Romelle heading in the direction of the infirmary, flanked by Tavo and Merla. They’ve been working around the clock to help those who lost limbs and homes. Every time he sees them, they’re in fresh clothing streaked with blood. 

“Where are the others?” Keith finally asks. 

“Lotor put Zethrid and Ezor on kitchen duty, feeding the civilians,” Acxa answers firmly. “But _he_ and Narti have been arguing.”

“About?”

“What to do next? You know Larka’s officially called off the search for Honerva and Narti is less than pleased. Lotor thinks it’s the right thing to do with things so tense around here,” she pauses. “Honerva is the last person we should be worrying about.”

Keith inclines his head. “Speaking of sociopath grandparents…how is Zarkon? Keeping out of trouble?”

“If you must know,” Acxa starts. “He’s been helping Romelle in the infirmary. That’s where I saw him last, anyway.”

Keith licks his lips nervously. “You think it’s alright to let him off his leash like that?”

“What could he possibly do? His son and daughter have me watching him…well, not right now, but I have been.” 

He clenches his jaw. 

Acxa halts in her next step, grabbing onto Keith’s upper arm softy. “Hey,” she says, pulling him to a stop. “You have me as your spymaster. Don’t forget that. I’ll look out for our family the best way I can.”

“From the shadows?” Keith asks and he doesn’t realize that they’ve just reached his quarters. 

“From the shadows,” Acxa repeats with a small smile on her lips. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.” And then she’s pulling him into a rare embrace and Keith finds himself falling into the hug, sinking into her arms. He almost wants to sob in relief. Acxa chuffs softly in his ear and he can’t help but return the sound of comfort. 

\-- 

Acxa’s optimism can only take Keith so far. They’ve lost base after base. They’ve lost Gal. And now they can’t even get into contact with any of the other civilizations they’ve established under the Voltron Coalition. Would those places even be able to handle the influx of refugees? Would his people be a burden or could they work together with the Olkari and Balmerans? 

Keith scrubs a hand across his face, willing himself to rest. Shiro arrives ten minutes after he does with Akira in his arms. She is fast asleep and he places her in the makeshift bassinet by their bed before collapsing beside Keith. It’s a tight fit and it’s been a while since he’s shared a twin-sized bunk with Shiro but their long limbs tangle together, Shiro’s face fitting right in the crook of Keith’s neck. Keith drifts off to sleep.

He comes to, a varga later, to the sound of a knock on his door and Pidge shouting that they’ve reached their destination. The sound wakes up Akira, a whimpering cry clawing out of her throat and Pidge apologizes profusely through the locked door before moving on to the next room. Keith runs his hand through his hair while Shiro limply slides from the bed and plucks Akira from her bassinet, soothing her with a soft humming sound. Keith scrubs the sleep from his eyes. 

“What time is it?” Keith asks. 

Shiro peers at the clock on the side table and parrots the time back at Keith, who only lets out a guttural, tired groan. 

“Feels like we’ve landed,” Shiro murmurs as he heads for the door, Akira bundled in his arms. He opens the door. 

Keith swings his legs to the edge of the bed and slowly stands to his feet. 

“You think they have a plan?” he asks.

Shiro presses a kiss to Akira’s temple, before murmuring, “I hope so.”

The three of them leave the room, heading back to the bridge only to see Ezor walking in their direction. 

“Council meeting in the lounge,” she calls out. 

“What?” Keith asks. 

“Council meeting in the lounge,” she repeats sourly, heading in that direction. Apparently even she doesn’t want to attend this meeting. 

Shiro breathes out a sigh before turning back around. He tugs Keith along, the both of them dragging their feet. Talking is good. Talking _would_ be good. But talking isn’t what he really wants to do right now. All Keith wants is to curl back up into bed with Shiro and sleep off the last eight quintants in silence and peace. Maybe then he’ll wake up and it will all have been a terrifying nightmare. 

He’ll wake up and be back at the Fortress; he’ll take the lift to the roof and quietly sit in the gemstone garden, let the cool morning breeze rifle through his long hair. Keith breaks out of that daydream as they approach the doors leading to the lounge. The doors slide open and Keith is greeted with the sight of all the council members sitting on the couch, his mother pacing in front of them. The pilots of Sincline have taken up residence at the edges of the room, Zarkon and Keith’s dads doing so, too. He and Shiro are the first of Team Voltron to arrive, but that doesn’t last long as Coran, Ryou, Hunk, Lance, Allura, and Pidge finally hurry into the room—their hands full of datapads.

“I’ve assigned some of the survivors to create temporary yurts for the time being,” Ladnok remarks solemnly. There are dark circles around her eyes and Keith catches himself wondering if she misses her wife. “Occupying everyone should be our top priority. It leads to less time thinking and more time working together.”

Larka nods, gnawing on her lower lip. “Of course, of course.”

“We have people sleeping in the corridors,” Lotor adds. “Setting up some yurts will help get them settled, too.” 

Again Larka nods, not even listening. Sighing deeply, Keith watches as his father pushes away from the wall and takes center stage.

“Ladnok, have everyone work in four-varga shifts,” Thace commands. “We need to set up a dining hall, not everyone will fit on the ship. We’re overcrowded and that will only lead to discomfort.”

“How are the other ships doing?” Larka asks. 

“We’ve labeled them Cruiser A and Cruiser B,” Janka speaks up, his voice shaky. “Cruiser A is almost out of fuel, about forty-two percent. We’re going to eventually have to find a pipeline outpost and refuel.”

“What about Cruiser B?” Thace inquires.

“Stable,” Janka says, “for now.”

It’s an unspoken question percolating through the lounge. When will Sendak strike next?

“We can’t overlook that this has been a defining blow to the Voltron Coalition,” Thace speaks tersely. “Losing a planet, _again_ , is hard on many of us Galra, but we will persevere. We must move forward.”

“What about our communication?” Lance asks, abrupt. “Are we still down?”

“We finally have a concrete connection with the two cruisers but we haven’t been able to get in contact with Olkarion or the Balmera,” Coran replies. “Pidge, Shiro, and I have been trying to get in contact with them several times now.”

“And no good?” Keith asks. 

Coran shakes his head. “No good.”

The doors to the lounge slide open, revealing Krolia, her ponytail frazzled and knotted. Like she hasn’t taken any time for herself _or_ no one has been willing to comb her hair. Her face is pinched and her brows furrowed together, arms crossed over her chest. 

“What news?” Thace asks immediately. 

“We have a problem,” Krolia states.

Keith hears the audible inhale from the room’s inhabitants.

“What is it?” Mick and Lotor ask in unison.

Zarkon’s knowing gaze flickers from Larka to Krolia before settling on Keith.

“Some of the citizens are complaining that they’re ill,” she says. 

“Well, we’re all trapped in here,” Thace remarks. “Some fresh air will do them good.”

Krolia shakes her head. “This is more serious. I’ve had Tolak check some of them out. Three families have a fever and chills. Six people are coughing up blood.”

“What?” Larka asks, finally halting her pacing.

Krolia nods, grave. “I think we’re dealing with something far more serious than people being confined in one space and complaining of some space madness. This is more _severe _.”__

__“Have a team formed…anyone who has any medical experience,” Thace says._ _

__Keith stills. That means Dorma. That means Lotor. That means Larka._ _

__“You think this is some sort of bioweapon coming from Sendak?” Keith asks instead of voicing his own personal thoughts. “Or maybe exposure from the unknown planet? We’re disturbing a place that’s never been terraformed…”_ _

__“We won’t know anything until a medical and science team are established,” Thace answers gruffly. “I want Dorma and Tolak in charge.”_ _

__“Where’s Dorma now?” Larka asks._ _

__“With Tolak as we speak,” Krolia replies._ _

__Keith looks around the room. “Where is Kolivan?”_ _

__“Assisting the civilians with the construction of the yurts?” Ladnok nods._ _

__Larka’s eyes widen before turning to Thace and whispering something in his ear. He nods, too._ _

__“Krolia, pull him out,” Thace orders. “I want the people infected with the plague to be quarantined in a yurt outside the already established perimeter. Have our medical team work nearby?”_ _

__“Larka and I can try to make some sort of antibiotic,” Lotor assists. “But there isn’t much laboratory space aboard the Castle of Lions. Do you think we can set up a laboratory outdoors?”_ _

__“We’ll have the medical team set one up immediately,” Thace says._ _

__“What can the rest of us do?” Mick asks, looking at Zarkon._ _

__“I want a team aboard the bridge constantly reaching out to the outposts,” Thace says, smiling. “I’ll leave that to you. Gather as many people as you wish.”_ _

__Eight quintants have gone by and this isn’t what they needed._ _

__\--_ _

__It’s later that evening when the two suns are setting, leaving a buttery yellow-orange glow across the horizon, that Lotor and Larka corner him on the bridge. He’s sent out thirty long-ranged transmissions before Pidge disappeared to her room to test out some Olkarion tech that could help with receiving messages._ _

__“We’re going to need your assistance,” Lotor says succinctly._ _

__“With what?” Keith asks. “I’m kinda busy here.”_ _

__“Take a break,” Lotor murmurs. “We’re going to need you to assemble a team.”_ _

__“For what?”_ _

__“We may have found something that can help those who are ill,” Larka says, clearing her throat._ _

__“I’ve scanned the planet several times and I may have found an herb that could help,” Lotor insists._ _

__“May have found? Could help?” Keith recites. “We need something tangible here, Lotor. There are more people getting sick as the hours pass.”_ _

__“We know that,” Lotor says as Larka looks away, a violet blush to her cheeks. “That’s why we take a chance on this. Find this herb and I can make a vaccine, an antidote, something.”_ _

__Usually Lotor will speak in riddles, more precise with his wording. He sounds stressed, like he’s grasping at straws, hoping to pick the correct one._ _

__“Kythel,” Larka starts. “We can’t wait. One person has already succumbed to the plague. They were hemorrhaging blood everywhere. If anyone shows symptoms, they’re held in quarantine with the others. This herb will help us. But we need a team to go out there into the wilderness and retrieve it. Scans show that the terrain is mostly forests and hills. A team of six or seven will be a good start.”_ _

__“That’s a lot of people,” Keith murmurs._ _

__“Not compared to the amount of people getting sick,” Larka finishes, sweat beading at her forehead. How worried is she right now? Keith hasn’t fully thought about it. But she wasn’t able to lead that meeting and she’s been withdrawn ever since they managed to escape Gal’s gravitational pull. “For every illness, there is an antidote in plain sight. Please, Kythel.”_ _

__“I’m going do it, Mama,” Keith states. “Don’t worry. Just have the information sent to my wrist device.”_ _

__Larka lets out a breath of relief. “Who will you need?”_ _

__“I’ll take Papa and Pidge,” Keith says. “Hunk and Lance, too. They do well in the unknown. I can’t take one without the other, so I’m stealing Zethrid and Ezor from you, Lotor.”_ _

__“That is fine,” Lotor says, smirking. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to get out of the kitchen and see some action.”_ _

__“Hopefully, not too much,” Larka states. “Remember this planet is mostly flora, but we don’t know how aggressive some of the species are.”_ _

__Keith imagines a ginormous Venus flytrap with razor-sharp teeth or a gargantuan pitcher plant that will swallow him whole with one gulp. He shakes his head._ _

__“We’ll be wary.”_ _

__Larka nods with a soft smile. The first one he’s seen on her face in days._ _

__\--_ _

__Keith checks his wrist device for the umpteenth time. Lotor had mapped out the area where the herb would be hidden in hopes of making their expedition easier. Like Keith asked, Lotor had sent it to his wrist device along with the holo-image of the herb, a soft green plant with red and white marbled jagged edges. It was both strange and beautiful; they wouldn’t miss it once they spotted it. Keith climbs the steep incline with Hunk and Lance at the front; Pidge, Zethrid, and Ezor in the middle; and Keith and his father bringing up the rear._ _

__“Are you sure this is the direction?” Lance looks at his own wrist device._ _

__“Do you know how to read a map, Lance?” Pidge asks curtly._ _

__Ezor giggles._ _

__“I _can_ ,” Lance replies with mock anger. “I’m just…having…a little trouble is all.”_ _

__“Right,” Pidge drawls and this time Zethrid lets out a bellow of laughter._ _

__Keith narrowly moves out of the way as Ezor swings a thick vine away from her face and it comes recoiling back._ _

__“It’s the right direction,” Thace answers solemnly. “Just another mile to go.”_ _

__“Ugh,” Lance sighs loudly._ _

__“I mean it’s not that bad,” Hunk says. “We haven’t done something like this in a while.”_ _

__“I would have liked to keep it that way,” Lance mutters under his breath but they can all hear him._ _

__They walk in silence for the remaining mile._ _


	27. We All Fall Down, Part Two

The planet is all expansive, hilly knolls and lush, vibrant forests. Where one woodland rainforest begins another mountainous, craggy alpine greets them. Sweat dots Keith’s forehead and he hastily wipes at it with back of his glove. His paladin armor is streaked with dirt and condensation. The deeper they get into another forest, the harder it is to find their way out. The abundance of flora leaves them all falling down a well of green and emerald and viridian.

“What are we looking for again?” Lance asks, stumbling over a hidden stump from some forgotten fallen tree. 

“It’s an herb,” Keith says, almost panting as they crest another peak. Ahead of him, Zethrid helps Ezor and Pidge up onto a flat surface covered in moss and fallen vines. “Green with red and white edges.”

“According to the map,” Thace starts, tabbing open his wrist device, “it should be in this area.” 

“What do we do when we find it?” Zethrid asks.

“Grab as much as you can, roots and all,” Keith replies, “and stash it in your packs.” He finishes by patting the satchel hanging across his chest like a baby sling. 

“We should take back as much as we can,” Thace repeats. “The medical and science teams can deal with it when we get there.”

Keith almost trips over a thick black vine, the vine slithering away as his father hastily grabs at his shoulder to right him properly. 

“Thanks,” Keith mumbles. 

Thace nods tightly. 

“Coran said there weren’t any sentient life,” Hunk says, wavering as he watches the vine disappear down the hill and around a large tree that stretches to the sky. The canopy blots out the sun, leaving a dappling of sunlight filtering to the forest floor. “All I’m seeing is moving plants everywhere.”

“I’m wagering he meant lifeforms like us,” Thace answers glumly. “Let’s just find this herb and get out of here.”

Even his father seems tense and it only adds to the anxiety Keith feels. They’re miles away from the grounded, small fleet that makes up what is left of the Galra Empire. They have their communication links patched into radio the Castleship if anything happens, but it still makes him nervous: being so far away after such a catastrophic event.

Keith’s hands tighten into clenched fists. He hasn’t had time to think. They’ve been constantly moving, but all he wants to do is return to his room in the Fortress and curl up on the soft mattress beside Shiro. Everything else doesn’t matter, but people are getting sick now. People are hemorrhaging blood and dying after so many of them died already on Gal, unable to make it to the ships for evacuation or either shot down by Sendak’s retreating forces. Anger fills Keith’s belly like a cup of boiling milk. It twists, sour, and he feels like vomiting up the contents of his meager breakfast of food goo and recycled water.

After a brief break of rest and eating dry provisions that Allura had packed before they left, they set back out, scavenging across the forest floor, looking for any sign of the green plant with its red and white jagged edges. Keith almost wants to give up when Zethrid, Ezor, and Pidge come peeling down the steep incline, nearly rolling to the forest floor. Fear chills their faces and Keith furrows his eyebrows in question as they pant in exhaustion. 

“What happened?” Thace asks. “Where are Hunk and Lance?”

“They went in a different direction than us,” Pidge replies, panting and wiping at her face.

“We…we just saw—” Ezor’s teeth chatter wildly. 

“You just saw what?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“There’s a monster,” Zethrid grits out.

“A monster?” Keith repeats. “What kind of monster?”

“I-I-I don’t really know,” Zethrid answers. “But—”

“We found the plant,” Pidge manages to get out before running a hand through her shaggy haircut. 

“Okay, can the three of you make a little more sense?” Keith asks. 

Pidge takes a deep breath, but it’s Ezor who speaks clearly now. “We found the herb Lotor was talking about. But it’s kinda in the hands of a monster.”

“Not sure what it is,” Pidge says, “but you ever seen those anaconda movies, Keith? It was like that, black but _bigger_.”

Black? The vine that slithered away. Shit…

Keith locks eyes with his father before turning to Pidge. “Which way did Lance and Hunk go?”

“A little bit north, I’d guess,” Pidge says. 

“They should still be nearby,” Ezor comments. 

“Alright,” Thace says, sighing deeply. “We find the boys and we figure out what to do about the plant.”

The five of them continue up the steep incline until they reach a plateau only to bump into Hunk and Lance themselves. 

“What’s going on?” Hunk asks, reading their facial expressions. 

“We were just coming to look for you,” Keith answers. 

“Well, we didn’t find anything,” Lance says. “I hope you all had more luck.”

Pidge, Zethrid, and Ezor share a glance. 

“What?” Lance asks. “What happened?”

“What’s going on?” Hunk repeats. 

“Zethrid, Ezor, and Pidge found the herb, but apparently a _monster_ is watching over it,” Keith says solemnly. 

“What?!” Lance shouts. 

Pidge reaches out to shush him. “Quiet. What if it hears your big mouth?”

“We’d all be dead by now if it had heard us,” Thace says matter-of-factly. “We don’t have much time to waste. The longer we’re out here, the more people get sick. The three of you lead the way.”

With much hesitation on their part, Zethrid, Ezor, and Pidge lead them: across the plateau and down another hill filled with closely lined shrubs creating a hedgerow. The hedge narrows significantly for a few feet before opening up to reveal a large clearing. Keith’s heart stops. There in the center are beautiful leafy herbs with red and white marbled edges. But coiled atop mossy covered, smooth stones rests a dark serpentine creature with a blue underbelly and a spine green with moss. Its long black tail loops out of the clearing to the right, disappearing down a grassy knoll. 

It’s exactly what Keith had tripped on. 

“Holy shit,” Lance curses under his breath. “Not again.”

“What do you mean _not again_?” Keith hisses. 

“You remember that one time we all got separated and Lance and I were stranded on that frozen water planet?” Hunk asks. 

“Yeah,” Keith replies, “with those brainwashed Mer people?”

Hunk and Lance nod in unison.

“What about it?” Thace stage whispers quietly before stiffening as he looks at the creature.

“That’s just like the Baku, the monster that was eating people,” Lance says. 

“It _is_ a Baku,” Hunk corrects. 

The group ducks behind the opening of the hedge as the creature yawns widely, the head splitting into four jaws revealing sharp teeth. Its strange maw closes and its head sinks to the groaning stone below. 

“What are we going to do?” Ezor asks. 

“It’s sleeping—” Pidge says.

“Just barely,” Lance interrupts. 

“All I want is to not be eaten while we’re frolicking in a clearing,” Hunk says, sarcastic. 

“Okay what if—” Keith stops talking as the large serpent-like creature uncoils itself, yawning again before settling in a new position…facing them. 

“You think it can hear us?” Keith asks. 

“It doesn’t have eyes so…” Pidge trails off.

Keith looks at Thace whose own yellow eyes are narrowly fixed on the creature.

“Papa, what is it?” Keith asks. 

Thace’s trance is broken and he quickly opens is wrist device, tabbing through all the readings. He pauses, eyes glazed in fear. “The signature…it’s like the dark entity that was on Daibazaal so long ago.”

“You mean…” Pidge starts.

“This creature isn’t of this reality,” Thace finishes.

Keith curses under his breath. “We don’t have the Lions, or even Sincline, to deal with this thing.” In the back of his mind he hears Black let out a tense growl, but Keith slams down his mental wards and attempts to ignore him. “This will have to be a steal mission. Zethrid and Hunk, you’ll watch from here, make sure that thing doesn’t move.”

“Can we shoot it if it moves?” Zethrid asks. 

“Yes, but only if it attacks,” he pauses. “The rest of us will take what we can.”

“The best thing we can do is not disturb it right now,” Thace reminds.

Keith nods. 

“Alright, let’s take as much as we can,” Pidge comments. 

Lance makes a subtle groaning noise before following the rest of them out into the clearing. Keith treads carefully, watchful of the undergrowth and the fallen tree branches. He reaches the herb first, slowly crouching before starting the arduous labor of plucking the herb from the clay-like soil, roots and all. Thace and Ezor reach second, followed by Pidge and then Lance. Out of the corner of his eyes, Keith sees the snake-like tail inching closer, back to the main body as it shifts into another position. Its head still faces toward them as Zethrid makes a move forward. Keith cuts his gaze over to her and Hunk, shaking his head. 

_No, not now,_ he thinks.

The group is hastily shoving the herb into their satchels when the beast makes a sudden move: wildly arching its back before rearing its head back and letting out a screeching roar. Keith doesn’t know what set it off but it snaps it’s jaws in Lance’s direction before barreling towards the paladin of the Red Lion. Lance doesn’t skip a beat, even as Zethrid and Hunk start shooting at it; he has his own rifle out and is shooting directly down the beast’s maw. He tucks and rolls out of the way, shooting—this time—at its side. Thace already has his blade unsheathed and runs after the beast as it redirects its attention at Ezor and Pidge. Keith follows, taking out his bayard until his sword forms. He unsheathes his luxite blade from the small of his back and charges. The herb forgotten as the serpentine creature drops atop half the clearing, smothering the small leaves beneath its behemoth weight. 

It rears back again, shaking its head before slamming it down right in front of Ezor who lunges back, her own blade in her hand as she guards Pidge. The green paladin is the only one not taking a defensive position as she gathers more of the herbs to fill her bag.

Keith sweeps low before leaping, jumping atop the creature’s mossy back and plummeting it with his weapons. Thace, still on the ground, plunges his own blade into the creature’s side. It wails, screeching excitedly, as it slithers back. Its head rears back once more before opening its maw and colliding with the soil in front of Lance. He repositions his rifle and shoots right between where its eyes would be. Lance is shouting something, but Keith can’t hear as he plunges both his blades into the beast again, strange glowing purple blood oozing out from the wounds. Below him, his father pulls his blade free before stabbing forward once more and dragging the blade down the length of the creature’s side. Glowing black organs spill out, dumping onto the herbs with an almost a sizzling heat. Keith’s eyes widen in disbelief as the creature rears back again, letting out one final wail before slamming to the ground, its guts pouring out from the skin of its body.

Keith wipes his gloved hand across his sweaty forehead, leaving a trail of glowing purple blood. Thace is heaving as he plucks his blade from the Baku’s side. Hunk, Zethrid, and Lance slowly lower their weapons.

“Is it dead?” Lance asks. 

“What do you think, Lance?” Pidge says, finally zipping up her satchel, it practically bursting with herbs. “I think we’ve got enough.”

~~

Larka walks aboard the bridge, hands shaking at her sides. “How’s it fairing?” she asks Mick who turns to greet her.

“We haven’t made any headway so far,” he answers. “Coran had to take a break.” 

“You should too.” Larka tries to smile, but her news is grim. “Kolivan must have come into contact with someone who was showing symptoms because he’s in quarantine now.”

“What?” Mick says, sitting up from Pidge’s seat aboard the bridge. “Is he alright?”

“He has fever and the chills, but he’s stable for now,” Larka remarks. She scratches at her neck, the inside of her throat dry and prickly.

No.

“Mick, you should really take a break,” she remarks again. “You’ve been working two shifts straight. No one will—” Larka hiccoughs.

“You okay?” Mick asks, taking a hasty step forward. 

Larka takes a step back. “Yes, I’m fine. There’s just a lot of work to be done.” She hiccoughs again, covering her mouth this time as her head spins. Something warm and tacky spills over her tongue. She moves her hand away and stares down at it, purple-tinged blood coating her palm. 

The bridge has fallen silent, she looks up at Mick, his eyes wide as he takes in the blood splattered across her lips. “Mick…”

“Larka?”

He curses, taking another step forward. But she takes another step back, coughing into her hand as more blood wells up her throat, spraying across her hand and trickling down her wrist. Some of it manages to coat over the pristine white floor and then…her head is spinning again and her face flushes before everything goes black.

She comes to on a cot, a soft blanket covering her as she rests back. Her eyes blink, adjusting to the low sub-lights of the glass yurt. She lets out a cough, hacking as she turns on her side, blood splattering on the white bed sheet. 

“Are you okay, my lady?” asks a soft voice. 

A woman no older than Larka, stares at her, blood is caked across her lips and she’s shivering, teeth chattering even while she’s wrapped in a blanket. Larka untangles her legs from her own blanket before placing it on the woman’s shoulders. She has more need of it than Larka, but the sudden gust of coldness tackles into Larka’s bones and her stomach lurches. The woman must see what is plainly written on Larka’s face because she grabs a waste bin from the corner and shoves it under Larka’s head. Larka’s stomach lurches again and she expels her lunch into the basket along with some gooey, clotted blood.

“I’m in quarantine, aren’t I?” Larka asks, wiping her mouth with her palm. 

The woman nods. 

“Do you know how long?” Larka inquires.

“I think I saw them bring you in about three vargas ago,” the woman says stiffly. “They haven’t been back since.”

So, no more patients since she had arrived. Good.

Larka grabs the waste bin from the woman and places it down. “Thank you.”

The woman nods before leaving, tending to some of the other civilians that are worse off than the both of them combined. Larka licks her lips and stands, feeling her joints pop as she does. She walks around another cot and then another, eyes searching and searching. Finally, they land on Kolivan, sleeping away on his own cot seated at the edge of the yurt. He’s covered in three layers but still shivering. Swallowing around the bile rising up her throat, Larka places a hand on his forehead. 

“He’s burning up,” she says softly, hand dancing to his hair to comb through it. 

The cot next to his is empty and she sits at the edge near the glass wall. How long will it take for the infection to work through their systems? At what point will their organs start shutting down unable to handle whatever was working through them? It had to be Sendak. He must have released something into the air while he was destroying what she had worked so hard to build on Gal. A sudden tapping pulls her from her brief reverie. 

She turns and spots Krolia and Mick. 

“You shouldn’t be near here,” Larka says, almost pouting. 

“We wanted to see when you’d be awake,” Krolia mimics her scowling. 

“Well as you can see, I’m fine,” she hisses before starting a coughing fit. When she’s done and blood sluices over her hand, Krolia fixes her with a stern gaze. 

“Oh, yes. You’re fine alright.”

Mick jabs her with his elbow. “Enough.”

“Where is Akira?” Larka asks. 

“Safe,” Mick says. “With Dayak. Shiro is on the bridge taking my place.”

“Good. I want you to tell Lotor to cure the others before me,” Larka says.

“What? But—” Mick starts.

Larka shakes her head, her hair wild around her face. “Please. Just do this for me. I know he’s going to want to heal me and Kolivan first. He’s selfish like that, but please tell him to heal everyone—including Kolivan—first.”

“Larka…” Krolia says softly. 

“Promise me.”

With much resistance, they finally nod in unison.

They say their good-byes and Larka turns back to Kolivan, staring at him as another wave of chills settles into his bones. Her own teeth clack together at the sight and she rubs at her upper arms. A blanket slips over her shoulders and she looks up to see her father. Red irises and yellow sclerae. Unaffected by the need for quintessence. Clean. Uncorrupted. Her father again. 

“Are you sick?” Larka asks, turning back to Kolivan. 

“No.”

Larka’s eyes snap up to Zarkon again. “Then you shouldn’t be in here. You’re going to risk infection!”

“For my daughter, yes,” he says before sitting down on the cot next to her. 

Zarkon wraps a large arm around her shoulders and Larka leans into him, teeth chattering. 

“Is your fever high?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Dorma hasn’t come by yet.”

“Lotor won’t follow your orders,” Zarkon pauses. “You know that, correct?”

“Krolia will make him,” she says back, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Larka,” he says. “I know you feel guilty. About what happened to Gal, but you don’t have to act like this.”

“I’m not acting like anything,” she says, taking a deep breath.

“I trained Sendak since he was a boy,” he says. “He would have done this regardless if he was Emperor or you were Empress. He’s vindictive.”

“He wasn’t _always_ like that,” she murmurs. 

“I fostered that behavior,” Zarkon says. “I allowed it to fester for ten thousand years. If you are to blame someone, blame me.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles. 

“I should have listened to you when you didn’t want to marry him,” Zarkon continues. “I should have listened to you far more than any other adviser. I was neglectful to you and your brother. You should have been fighting beside one another instead of fighting amongst yourselves. I am to blame.”

“Shut up,” she repeats, her eyes burning and her throat prickly. Another bout of coughing into his chest, blood smattering the front of his dark tunic. If he wasn’t infected, he is now. “You don’t need to treat me like a cub.”

Zarkon says nothing, only curls her in closer. “They’ll be back soon and then Lotor will create a cure.”

It’s something she needs to hear, if only for a little while.

~~

They break out of the forest and into the great hilly knoll, an expansive amount of greenness housing the small fleet. Yurts are set up around the perimeter and outskirts. Keith lets out a breath of relief, thankful that they’ve reached back so soon.

“Home sweet home,” Hunk murmurs, walking ahead of the group and down a sloping hill. Lance and Pidge follow him, Zethrid and Ezor close behind. 

“Home sweet home,” Keith repeats sourly. 

“What’s wrong?” Thace asks.

“What do you mean?” Keith’s eyes dart towards his father before looking ahead. The rest of the group has crossed a great distance and they’re lagging behind. 

“You get this look on your face,” Thace says, “when you’re upset. Your mother gets the same expression.”

Keith chuffs rudely. “I’m not upset if that’s what you think.”

“But you’re worried,” Thace remarks, terse.

“I’m worried about a lot of things,” Keith admits. “We just lost our home and I’m worried about Mama and how she’s reacting to this. I’m worried that Akira won’t have solid ground beneath her feet. I’m worried about Shiro and his health. I’m just…tired…tired of fighting. But I’m especially tired of running.

“How long until Sendak attacks us again?” he pauses. “And what does he want? Voltron or just our extinction? He doesn’t even know we have Zarkon or the ability to cleanse everyone. What if he finds out? What if he has spies everywhere? What if that’s what he wants?”

Thace mulls over Keith’s words, walking down another slope towards the basin of their small village.

“What if we just stay here?” Thace asks finally. “What if we stayed here and ignored the rest of the universe? Rebuild what we lost. Would that make you feel any better?”

“No,” Keith replies. “It wouldn’t.”

A long pregnant pause. 

“That creature in the forest,” Thace starts, “it _worries_ me. How many more there could be. What could happen if we went into the rift…”

Keith looks over to his father.

“The ambitions of Larka and Lotor are immense,” Thace continues. “They get it from their mother. I fear they disrupt the balance of the Cosmos by seeking this endeavor, by following this perilous path. That creature is living proof that there is much to discover.”

“I think that as long as you’re there, Mama will remain balanced,” Keith says. “Don’t be like Zarkon and she’ll be fine.”

Thace lets out a bark of laughter. “I see,” he says, still chuckling.

The rest of the walk into the village is done in quiet as they both dwell upon their thoughts. It’s Allura who greets their group near the makeshift dining hall. It’s Allura who tells them the news.


	28. Short Stop

Lotor spends all evening synthesizing the herbal remedy, sweating fruitlessly away in the makeshift laboratory outside the Castleship. The medical and science teams work alongside him, sorting through needles and vials and beakers, gathering as many resources as they can find aboard the Castleship. The news sweeps over the encampment like its own infection, learning that some of the Galra leadership have contracted whatever this strange virus is…but after being hit with more than one issue within the last movement, the people somehow don’t lose hope. Even with the few civilians succumbing to their symptoms.

It takes a while, but Lotor manages to create a cure for those infected and a vaccine for everyone else. Those infected slowly stop hemorrhaging. The coughing fits and vomiting that has swept through the encampment slowly dissipates, scattering to the wind. It’s a slow process but Lotor, Dorma, and Tolak manage to aid everyone who needs it. And slowly Larka and Kolivan start making a full recovery. 

Keith walks down the long corridor towards the bridge, the white walls gleaming brightly beneath the brilliant lights. The doors of the bridge slide open, revealing a busy chamber with many people fluttering between stations. He spots Pidge at her seat, eagerly talking into her communication link. Keith’s eyebrows furrow.

Slowly, Keith paces over to Pidge, learning over the back of her seat. As if sensing him, Pidge raises her index finger to silence him before he can speak. 

“Of course,” Pidge says into her communication link. “We’ll be there before you know it. Thanks, Rax!” 

She signs off from the call, leaps from her seat with her arms held high, and spins in a circle. 

“Guess what!” she squeals in delight. 

It’s the first smile Keith has seen on her face since they arrived in this predicament. It’s infectious and Keith finds himself smiling, too. Shiro whirls around from his place at the front console, Akira strapped to his front in her sling. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

All eyes are on her as she does a sweep around the room in her rollerblades. 

“I just got in contact with Balmera X-95-Vox!” Pidge answers.

“End?” Lance and Hunk ask in unison.

“They can take us in!” Pidge yells in excitement. 

“Good work, Pidge!” Allura remarks. 

Keith smiles again. 

“I’ll make a heading for the Balmera!” Coran says, idly tapping away at the screen in front of him.

“Keith, what do you need?” Shiro calls out.

The paladin straightens out to his full height, hands still clenched on the back of Pidge’s chair. 

“There’s a council meeting in ten,” Keith reports. “I wanna make sure there isn’t something important you want me to tell them.”

Shiro tilts his head. “Tell them that Cruiser A has just enough fuel to make it to the Balmera. But the captain said she’s going to have to divert auxiliary power to the thrusters. We’re going to have to send a team to one of the pipeline depots near the Balmera for fuel.”

There’s something on Shiro’s face, something beseeching. Like he doesn’t want Keith to push the question right now. The clean quintessence and what awaits beyond the rift. It’s the elephant in the room and no one is willing to confront it so soon after the contagion swept through their encampment. 

“I’ll tell them,” Keith says instead of what he truly wants to say. He leaves soon after with a quick wave and heads to the lounge. 

He makes note that many of the council members are already there, waiting for him. With Larka and Kolivan still weakened and recovering with some much-needed bedrest, Keith takes over the meeting with Thace and Mick filling out the silence. He reiterates what Shiro had said and Raht says he’ll create the team and have them go to the pipeline outpost as soon as they land on the Balmera. Ladnok dismisses herself early to start the process of taking down the yurts with the other civilians and reloading the Castleship and cruisers. 

“Communication must have been knocked down with every coalition outpost,” Mick remarks after the meeting is adjourned. It’s just him, Thace, Zarkon, Hazar, and Keith left in the room. 

“But for how long?” Thace asks. “Since we lost Gal?”

“I had done an outpost check sixteen doboshes before the attack,” Hazar answers. “Everything was normal.”

Zarkon clears his throat rather abruptly. “Sendak would have cut off communication _during_ his attack, not before or after. He wanted you helpless to his invasion. The probability of you attempting to communicate with the outside solar system during the attack is high. To cut off communication before the invasion would be to warn you. Sendak would not have risked that.”

There’s a quietness after he speaks. Not everyone is accustomed to Zarkon being a part of their group now. And it shows in the way that Hazar eyes Zarkon, blatantly irritated with him being there. Even Mick looks nervous. He’s heard the stories of Zarkon through Larka and Krolia. It was the main reason Larka sought out Mick in the first place: a safe home for Keith to grow up in. Being face-to-face with a man who used to be a monster is jarring for everyone. 

It’s Thace who breaks the silence. “Do we have any idea where he could be heading to next?”

“We still haven’t gotten in contact with Olkarion,” Mick says, Hazar nodding in agreement. 

“We can only hope that they’ll remain safe,” Thace says. 

Zarkon’s mouth opens to speak, but he quickly closes it, unwilling to state what’s on his mind. Keith ignores it in favor of turning to his father.

“As soon as we get settled, we should send a team to Olkarion to check on their people,” Keith remarks. “Pidge’s parents may still be there.”

“We have to assume that their defenses can keep away any an invasion,” Thace says solemnly. “Better than we had. Or at least until reinforcements arrive.”

Regret and mild shame percolates through the room. Keith isn’t the only one who feels guilty about what had happened. How they were unable to save what they had built…

Keith adjourns them once more. They’ll be reaching the Balmera soon. 

\--

The moment they reach the Balmera, Hunk takes command and puts them all to work. They help build more yurts, many in the style and architecture of the Balmerans. The Castleship and two cruisers have grown claustrophobic even with the fact that a large cluster of people perished due to the infection. And although many have made a full recovery, some—like Kolivan and Larka—are taking longer to recover. They’re weakened and tired, unsettled with the cure streaming through their bodies and fighting off the infection. It puts many on edge, unwilling to believe that they’re all cured and perhaps people should still be in quarantine. 

A small meeting is held with Mick, Hazar, Keith, Hunk, and Rax the next evening after everyone has gotten settled. Rax had admitted that communication had gone down the moment the invasion had started on Gal. They couldn’t receive or send messages to anyone. It had been a miracle that Pidge had been able to speak with Rax the quintant before. After the meeting, Keith returns to his room on the Castleship; Akira is already tucked in but Shiro is still awake, idly tapping away on his datapad. 

“How did it go?” Shiro asks the moment Keith walks in.

“Well enough,” he responds dutifully. “It’s not surprising that Sendak cut off communication between all the coalition outposts. Zarkon said yesterday that Sendak would have damaged our communication during the invasion because to do so at any other time would have warned us that something was amiss.”

“Well, he’s right on that account,” Shiro says, placing the datapad down beside him. 

Keith crawls into bed, flopping uselessly on his stomach on Shiro's other side. “I’m only wondering why we can’t get into contact with Olkarion. We’re slowly getting into contact with everyone now—Puig, Arus—and we’ve got in contact with Taujeerians and the Mer people, some of the Taujeerians are still on Puig or helping out on Arus. But we still have people on Olkarion. People who need our help.”

Shiro is silent for a moment, mulling over Keith’s words. 

“We’ll get through to them,” Shiro says. “We just have to hope that nothing bad has happened.” 

Nearly the same words that Keith’s papa had said.

“I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing: hoping something bad doesn’t happen,” Keith remarks, “because we’re already out of luck.” 

Shiro rolls onto his side, placing his warm Galra hand on the back of Keith’s head, tangling the fingers into the long length of his thick hair. 

“Patience yields focus, my love.”

Keith hums in agreement. 

The next morning, Keith showers and dresses in silence as Shiro and Akira continue on sleeping. He braids his hair back and quickly leaves. He checks on his mother, who is still asleep also, before heading to the kitchen for a bowl of food goo. He finds Acxa and Lotor sitting at the counter as he pours himself his glass of milk.

“I think we need to regroup,” is the first thing out of Lotor’s mouth.

“Good morning to you, too,” Keith mumbles under his breath.

Acxa snorts into her hand, chuckling.

“Our two teams are stretched too thin right now,” Lotor says. “Thinking about what we could have done instead of what we _should_ do now.”

“What are you getting at?” Keith asks, already knowing the answer by the way Acxa stares at him. 

“The cruisers are going to need refueling every few movements, why not go for a clean energy source…” the young prince says. 

“Lotor…” Keith trails off. 

“Hear me out,” Lotor says, raising his hands. “We should continue on with our original plans, the plans we had before we were attacked.” 

“Lotor, I don’t think—”

“We should be moving forward. Not clinging to what’s happened in the past movement.”

Keith sighs loudly. “Maybe this isn’t the time. We’re just getting back on our feet.”

“Which is why we need to regroup and see where this leads us. There are infinite possibilities that this could lead us to something new and fresh. Clean energy, fuel and weaponry to use against Sendak, moving through realities, siphoning that clean energy from—”

“We could do that, but you’re not considering if we should.”

Lotor stills at that. “You’re against it?”

“That’s not what I said,” Keith says. “I’m only saying we should hold off—”

“We’ve put this off long enough!”

“Do you think the council will go for this? We just got _here_.”

“I’ve been gathering votes since I created the vaccine and cure,” Lotor comments. “I have enough.”

“What about Larka?” Keith asks. “What does she think?”

“She agrees with me.”

“Of course she does,” Keith mutters, sarcastic as he jams his spork into his food.

“Why are you so against this?” Acxa asks. 

“This is an opportunity,” Lotor adds. 

“I’m not against it, but like you said, Lotor, we’re spreading ourselves too thin,” he answers. “Do you really think this is the right thing to do? Right now?”

“I’m not saying we should drag the civilians around on this endeavor,” Lotor mutters.

“But you are,” he pauses. “After everything that’s happened, do you think my mama is going to let us go without the rest of them going too? She may agree with you on the mission, but she isn’t going to have anyone left behind this time.”

Keith wants to say: _It’s too traumatic. For everyone._ But he knows that Lotor will see this through, no matter what.


	29. Shifting

As the quintants pass, Keith finds himself in meeting after meeting. When he’s not helping the Balmerans preform their daily tasks or taking care of Akira alongside Shiro, he’s holed up in the lounge of the Castleship, going over plans and missions to be taken place in the coming phoebs. They have enough crystals to power ships with them being on the Balmera but they still need other resources to build those ships. Even with the fuel that they were able to gain from Raht’s mission to a nearby depot.

It’s still not enough. 

Food resources are another thing that their meetings revolve around. With the new influx of the Galra Empire on the Balmera, there is a possibility that the Balmerans’ food sources could dwindle. And there is just so much grubs and food goo that Keith is willing to eat. Hunting on nearby planets is one option but it requires making hunting teams out of civilians who have never hunted before…even if they managed to save a village of hunters from Gal’s destruction. 

It's still not enough.

It’s the rebuilding that is hard, the strain on their new resources and being guests on a foreign world. Many of the Galra and Altean civilians are unused to it. 

At one meeting, Romelle brings up the idea of moving the remnants of the Galra Empire to the colony in the Quantum Abyss. But that would require time and a significant amount of effort traversing through such a volatile region with so many civilians. It wouldn’t be worth it to trace back their steps for the sake of a simulated colony. Better to stay with allies. 

Quintants turn to movements and movements turn to a phoeb. Before Keith knows it, it’s Akira’s birthday. Shiro and he plan a small party for her with just close friends and family invited. Pidge decorates the lounge with homemade streamers cut in the shapes of purple baby hippopotamuses. White lanterns float dimly near the ceiling, casting a soft glow on the guests as they eat, talk, and watch Akira’s favorite Bii-Boh-Bi’s puppet show for children on the holo-screen. Hunk bakes a sweet sugary cake, but Keith would rather not know what the ingredients are when they are so far from a space mall. There’s not much gift giving, but Coran gives her a knitted peach-colored blanket made of soft yarn and Larka gifts her a brilliant geode of shining greens and blues that twinkle in the light. The event is a bit of normalcy that everyone has been craving for the past month.

When the party is finished, all the decorations have been put away, and the last slice of cake has been eaten, it’s back to work for everyone. More meetings and more mining and more everything he doesn’t want to do.

But like thunderclouds in the distance, a storm is brewing. Keith just doesn’t know when he’ll be drenched. 

It happens a week after Akira’s first birthday. 

Lotor strides into the lounge, his hair piled up on the top of his head as Larka and Thace take center stage in front of everyone. 

“You’re late,” she says primly. 

“Sorry,” he replies. “I had more important things to go over with my team.”

“Is that why none of them are here?” Thace asks. 

Lotor nods. 

“Is there something wrong with Sincline?” Larka inquires, eyes narrowed. 

“No, nothing is wrong with Sincline,” he pauses. “We were only going over our mission’s objective.”

“What mission’s objective?” Thace asks just as Larka says: “I never signed off on a mission for Team Sincline.” 

There is a beat of quietness, something awkward in the air as Lotor takes a deep breath. 

“We’re going to go into the rift. The gate is still set up and we will get the mission done without a lot of people.”

Another beat of silence and then the room erupts into a swell of angered tirades. Keith massages his temples as Shiro sets his square jaw, clenching his teeth. 

“Did you know anything about this?” Shiro asks Keith quietly. 

“Did I know he was going to go through with this? Yes,” Keith remarks. “Did I think he’d be this stupid to try this so soon? No.”

Shiro scoffs. 

“Larka, do you really think this is the right path for all of us?” Ladnok inquires diligently. 

“This is going to be worse than before.” Someone—Raht—says.

“Many of us are old enough to remember what happened the first time we tampered with the rift,” Kolivan adds. 

“Perhaps this will turn our advantage against Sendak,” Dayak remarks sternly. “We’ll need all the advantages we are offered. 

Larka’s face looks pinched as she stares over at Lotor, as if she can’t believe he would bring this up so soon. As if reading her mind, he speaks. 

“It’s been a phoeb and a half since we attempted to go through with this,” Lotor says. “We are stable now. We have our teams: hunting, science, medical, scouting. This is also a necessity. It’s something we need.” 

“I disagree,” Zarkon says. “This will be detrimental to our health. Larka, remember what happened last time.”

He’s begging and it’s so unusual. 

“No one asked you for your opinion,” Lotor says brusquely. 

“But it requires the opinion of all of us,” Larka retorts. “We’ll hold a council vote tomorrow morning. It will give us all of tonight to think about it and we will have clearer heads in the morning.”

And so the meeting is adjourned earlier than usual and Lotor stomps petulantly from the room. 

He had said he’s been gathering support. Would they follow through with him for such an intensive mission? 

“What do you think?” Shiro asks. 

“What?”

“About this mission? Do you think we should go ahead with the mission?”

“Are you going to be mad if I say yes…?” 

“Keith, I’m not going to be mad,” Shiro says, running a hand through his hair. 

“You’ll just be mildly disappointed,” Keith remarks. 

Shiro playfully shoves him, smiling. “I’m not going to be mad or disappointed. Lotor really wants to go through with this. Maybe if we do go ahead and do it, he’ll back off a little more.”

“Give him this win and maybe he’ll calm down?” Keith asks. 

“Give him this win and he _will_ calm down.”

The next morning comes too soon. He and Shiro rise early, bringing a talkative Akira with them to the lounge where many are already there, casting in their votes. 

“The baby’s vote doesn’t count,” Lance says, his facial expression stern as he ruffles her thick hair with his palm. He clearly isn’t voting in Lotor’s favor. 

“Don’t worry,” Shiro says to placate Lance. “She isn’t here to vote; she’s neutral.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” Lance says, handing a datapad over to Thace who tabs at it before handing it to Keith. 

“We’re all voting on the same datapad. Give it back before giving it to Shiro,” Thace says, just as stern as Lance. 

Keith bites his lip before tabbing over the _yes_ button. He hands it back over to his father. “How did you vote? Yea or nay?”

Thace looks away for a moment. “I voted no,” he says solemnly. 

Keith’s eyes widen as Thace tabs at the screen before trading with Shiro, Akira for the datapad. 

“What do you mean no?” Keith asks. “You don’t think mama is—” 

“My vote has nothing to do with your mother,” Thace interrupts, perching Akira on his hip. “I just think this isn’t the correct path for us right now. If anything, I agree with Lance.”

“And what does Lance want?”

“For us to go to Earth.” 

_All roads lead back to Earth,_ Keith thinks. Perhaps he should have talked to the other paladins again, to know their true feelings. Would Pidge be so interested in the unknown that she would recklessly follow through with Lotor’s plans? Would Allura? Would Hunk be more levelheaded with what he wanted to do or agree with Lance’s position on Earth? What about Ryou and Shiro? How many of them wanted to go home? _All of them,_ he thinks again. For some reason he knows what Lance would say; that losing Gal was a wake-up call. We should refortify on familiar grounds. But isn’t that what they’re doing on the Balmera? 

Nostalgia is too strong with this group. 

“How is communication going?” Keith asks, changing the subject. “Have you got in contact with Olkarion yet?”

“Mick has been trying, but no such luck,” Thace admits. 

Just as Keith is about to say something, Pidge rushes in with Matt hot on her heels. Keith’s eyes widen at the sight. _Speak of the devil._

“Pidge?” Larka says from the front of the lounge. “Matt? How did—”

“No time for that,” Pidge breathes loudly. “His shuttle just landed.”

“I came with a few of the rebels,” Matt says, panting as if he just ran the length of the Castleship to reach them. “We were held up at this checkpoint.”

“A checkpoint?” Thace asks. “What sort of checkpoint?”

“Sendak has these checkpoints set up all across the galaxy of every major quadrant,” Matt explains. “He’s got these freighters standing watch. You have to land your spacecraft in them and they search them. I don’t know what they’re looking for and I didn’t stick around for long to find out.”

“How did you make it past the checkpoints?” Shiro asks. 

“It was only one checkpoint for us after we picked up your radio frequency to Olkarion,” Matt remarks. “But we caused a bit of a distraction with a bomb on one of the freighters and we were able to make it out unharmed. I’m sure our faces are plastered on wanted posters but whose face isn’t these days…”

“What about Olkarion?” Keith asks. “Why can’t we get through to them?”

“I just came from there,” Matt says, “but we’ve been planet hopping for the past month. From what I’ve gathered communication is still down. It’s kinda of shocking considering they're tech wizards but I know they’re working on it.”

Larka nods. “Good. What about your parents?”

Matt sighs, “That’s some more good news, I guess. My parents, Iverson, and a few Olkari scientists left Olkarion for Earth a week before Gal had even been attacked. We—my group—didn’t learn of the attack until two weeks after the invasion at a space bar. Everyone was talking about it. But the news was covering it differently…like they’ve already sided with Sendak. Like he’s got the full endorsement of the propaganda machine. They know you all are out there, running for your lives, but they have no idea that you’re on the Balmera. We should keep it that way. 

“The bad news is that my dad hasn’t answered his transponder in over a week and a half. I’m not really sure if he even knows what happened on Gal. We spoke briefly but not about that. I’m sorry, Empress Larka. For this loss.”

“We’ve all lost a lot, but we need to keep moving forward.” Her words fall flat and she sounds exhausted, but everyone nods in agreement nonetheless.

“This is why we should head to Earth,” Pidge says, surprising Keith entirely. “It would be better if we regrouped there, away from Sendak.”

“Didn’t you hear your brother, Pidge,” says Hunk. “There are checkpoints all over the place. How are we going to get past them?”

“We have the Castleship, duh,” Lance remarks. “We can make portals to get past them.”

“There are no fuel depots around Earth,” Ryou comments. “What are we going to do when Cruiser A and B run out of steam, huh? The Castleship can’t house that many people.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Thace says, holding Akira in one arm and the datapad in his free hand. “The votes are in. We’re going to the ruins of Daibazaal.”


	30. World Collapsing

It takes a movement for the Galran and Altean refugees to get unsettled once more. There may be the possibility that Sendak would arrive at the ruins of Daibazaal at any time. He could be stalking them, remaining hidden at one of his checkpoints and waiting for Voltron to make their great debut. This only prompts Larka to bring all three ships along for the journey. Cruiser A and Cruiser B are loaded up with a team of scientists and a crew of civilians while many of the others are left behind on the Balmera. 

It’s a high stake. As far as Larka and the council know, Sendak doesn’t know how many ships made it off Gal. 

They leave the Balmera on a sunny morning, a soft breeze in the air that combs through Keith’s hair as he helps the crew board one of the vessels before returning to the Castleship. The sunlight from a distant star is warm on the back of his neck and he sweeps his braid over his back despite the damp sweat. 

The bridge is busy when they finally take off, people coming in and out, relaying messages from the kitchens or hangers. Within the two vargas it takes to reach the ruins of Daibazaal, the shift changes twice and Keith sees different faces enter the bridge as Ryou pilots them forward. 

“How soon will we get there?” Keith asks Ryou, after sidling up next to him with one of his feet perched on the dais for balance. 

“It won’t be long now,” Ryou says. “Will Voltron be ready?”

“Yes,” Keith says flippantly.

“Will Sincline?”

“I’m sure they’re the only ones _completely_ ready,” Keith says dully. 

From the front window, Keith sees the large gate in the distance, a shimmering beacon beckoning them closer and closer. It fills Keith with a sense of alarm, at how close they are to this mission. He only hopes it will be quick. That Sincline will go through the rift and return with the much-needed knowledge. They’ll be able to work from there: build a pipeline, rebuild the empire to its former glory, colonize an abandoned planet close by. 

“Alright Voltron,” Keith starts, rolling his shoulders, “let’s meet up with Team Sincline in the hangers before we head out.” 

“Roger that,” Pidge murmurs before climbing from her seat. Hunk, Allura, and Lance follow suit. From across the bridge, by the front console, his mother watches him with a faint smile. He returns it, grabbing Shiro’s attention as well. 

“Be careful,” Shiro reminds thoughtfully. 

“Always.”

The team takes the long way to the hangers, weaving through the crowded corridors while people pass them and give them tight-lipped smiles. Everyone is on edge, waiting for the outcome of the mission with avid interest. His father and dad stop him in the middle of the hallway—on the way to the bridge—and give him pats on the shoulders. 

“Be careful,” they repeat Shiro’s words in unison.

He nods tightly before hurrying after his teammates. They enter the hanger to see Lotor, Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, and Narti furtively looking over a holo-screen of plans. 

“It’s about time you guys showed up,” Ezor jokes. 

“We had to deal with the bridge,” Lance says, mildly irritated. It’s still so obvious that he doesn’t want to be doing this mission. 

“It’s in good hands,” Allura remarks, trying to dispel any of the negative energy with a soothing hand on Lance’s upper arm. 

A large jolt of energy hits the ship, shoving Keith into Hunk’s bulky and open arms. They all fall to the ground, disoriented. The floor is frigid beneath his gloved hands. The holo-screen flops uselessly from the small table it was sitting on. Keith scampers back up to his feet, but another shot against the port side hits them, sending them all scattering back to the ground. 

“What the hell is going on?” Pidge asks loudly.

“We’re under attack!” Someone screams from the adjacent corridor. “We’re under attack!” The person—a Galra man who was on the bridge just a few minutes ago—appears in the open doorway, hands clutching at the edges with wide yellow eyes. “Ranveig’s fleet is ahead of us. They’ve made a blockade!”

“Get to the Lions,” Keith orders. “We’ll meet the Sincline ships outside!”

Each team heads to their respective locations—Sincline to their ships and Voltron to the Lion bays. They race through the halls, splitting up along the way even as another blast envelops the Castleship. Keith loads into Black through his great maw just as he slides into his helmet. 

“Shiro, how does it look out there?” Keith asks through the communication link. 

There’s a bit of static before Shiro’s calming voice fills his ears. “The Sincline ships have already engaged. Blue and Green are out there, too.”

“How bad is it?”

“We’re taking heavy fire,” Shiro says, stilted. “We’re waiting on Red, Yellow, and Black so we can raise our particle barrier.” 

Keith takes that as his cue when he slips into his pilot seat, grabs the thrusters, and rockets out of the bay like water through a spout. A blinding light fills his vision before he’s released into the blackness of the great expanse of space. Stars twinkle in the distance, too far away to see the planets and moons around them. The ruins of Daibazaal are a splattering of broken rustic rock, floating and almost wavering to his right. Before them, sits the blockade—a group of twenty warships. One of them has broken rank, moving closer towards their small fleet of three ships. Followed by another and another. Even as the Sincline ships close the gap.

“They’re moving closer to hit us,” Lance shouts down the communication link. “What should we do?”

“Engage,” Keith shouts back, hands gripping tight to the controls and shifting forward. 

“Particle barrier up,” Coran says distantly, words fraying around the edges. 

The only thing Keith can focus on is the warship heading in his direction. It’s fat and slow but eager to give chase as it swivels broadside. Purple plasma rockets out of its side cannons, heading towards him. At the last moment, before he can even fire Allura zooms closer, freezing the balls of plasma in midair. They float like frozen rocks, drifting into space. 

“Thanks,” Keith whispers. 

“No problem at all,” Allura says before her boosters swivel and she takes off in the opposite direction. 

Keith hits the controls again, swiveling around to face the warships once more. Black growls deep within his chest and he chases that feeling of overwhelming protectiveness and anger. Distraught. That’s the only word the pumps through his head. Sendak and his forces have made them _distraught_. Like caged animals waiting for their master to return, not knowing whether they’ll be beaten or fed. That’s what this battle feels like. 

Keith surges forward, firing on the closest warship. He forms the jaw blade, twisting through space and hurtling himself closer. Finally, close enough, he rakes the blade down the side of the ship. Explosions from within vibrate through the whole ship, splitting it down the side. A blinding light erupts in front of him as he sees Zethrid and Acxa take down another ship together. Something warm fills his stomach and for once he thinks—

“We can do this!” he shouts. 

There’s a chorus of agreement. Hunk and Pidge cheering. Allura’s high pitched warrior cry. Lance’s grunt as he catapults through space and splits a third ship into two. 

And then screams fill his audio. 

“We have a problem,” Shiro yells. 

“W-what’s wrong?” Keith asks, turning Black to face the Castleship. He sees it before Shiro even says anything. Cruiser A is faltering, taking on too much gunfire as a warship had somehow snuck past Teams Sincline and Voltron. One of its thrusters give way before a small implosion cascades down the side of it in a series of flashes, its own shields going down in the process. It begins to drift away from the rest of the small fleet.

“We’ve lost contact with Cruiser A,” Coran shouts.

It’s sudden, too sudden. 

“Redirect our efforts towards that warship,” Keith says, hitting his thrusters and zooming towards the warship who has now fixated on Cruiser B. The Galra Empire is down a ship and the Fire of Purification is gaining the upper hand in the battle for control over the ruins of Daibazaal. 

A holo-screen comes up on his main screen showing one of the Sincline ships heading towards the main Purification fleet. 

“I said redirect our efforts towards the warship endangering our cruiser,” Keith shouts as Pidge and Lance flank him. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Lance asks harshly. 

“Is that Lotor?”

Keith grits his teeth, watching as Lotor indeed heads over to the main fleet. 

“Something’s pulling me,” Ezor says. 

“Me too,” Zethrid and Acxa reply in unison. 

Narti is deadly silent as her ship heads in the direction of Lotor’s. 

“Hunk!” Keith bellows. “Handle this ship!” He then breaks away from his group, swerving to the left to head after the Sincline ships.

“Keith, no!” Someone—maybe Pidge—yells.

He doesn’t care. Something doesn’t feel right. He stalls, grabbing the controls and throttling back. With eyes mesmerized, he watches as Sincline forms. The arms attaching, the legs rotating, the torso lengthening as the head emerges. 

_Is that what Voltron looks like?_ he thinks as he watches the sleek body fold in on itself and expand. Finally, he reacts. 

“Lotor, what are you doing?!” he shouts down the communication link.

“Doing what we should have done from the beginning!” Lotor shouts back, slightly crazed.

That’s all Keith gets before Sincline disappears right before his eyes. They widen, perplexed at what has happened. 

“What just happened?” he thinks aloud.

“I have no idea,” Pidge says, sidling up next to him. 

A few ticks pass, everything at a standstill, until Sincline reappears with a nonexistent popping sound. It appears right behind the main fleet, forming two blades before ripping open one of the ships from the back with two twin slashes. An implosion erupts and a bright light flickers near the constructed gate as the ship blows up. 

“Lotor, what are you—” Acxa starts, but suddenly Sincline disappears again leaving behind a glimmer of white. Like a white cloud shimmering in the foreground of space. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Lance shouts. 

“Are those rifts?” Hunk asks. 

“We need to stop—”

“No time for that,” Keith says. “Our main objective is to take out those ships.”

~~

“What the hell is he doing?” Mick asks for the umpteenth time.

“Call them back in,” Zarkon shouts. “Larka, call them back in and we fall back.”

“I agree,” Thace says, looking frantically between the front window and back to his wife. “We just lost _both_ of our cruisers.”

Kolivan and Krolia look on nervously. The whole bridge looks anxious.

“Ryou,” Larka says. “You’re the captain here. What do you think we should do?”

Ryou gnaws on his lower lip, head tilted to the side as he looks out the front window. His bejeweled Altean arm shimmers beneath the bright light before he presses on one of the posts. 

“We’ll see this through,” he grumbles. “Lotor knows what he’s doing.”

A heavy sigh fills the room. _But does he really?_ Thace thinks. 

Larka nods tightly before heading to Pidge’s seat. 

“What are you doing?” Thace asks, hurrying over to stand behind her. 

She opens up a long-range broadcast, hands tapping idly on the console. 

“I don’t like the idea of him creating rifts just as much as you do, but he’s out there and we’re in here,” Larka says. “And it’s like you said, we’re down two ships. We’re going to need a backup plan.”

“Really?” Thace’s eyebrows lift. “You have a plan?” 

“Yes, I’m calling someone who can handle these rifts,” Larka says. “Let’s just hope she picks up.”

~~

A jolt of plasma hits Keith in the side, sending him rolling through space before his thrusters activate, righting him.

“We should form Voltron,” Allura says. “We should form Voltron and force ourselves into that inter-reality plane.”

“Are you crazy?” Hunk asks. 

“Sincline has been in there long enough,” Lance responds. “We shouldn’t go in there, too.”

“What do you think he’s doing in there anyway?” Pidge asks.

“He just dragged his whole team to their doom, and you want to go in there?” Lance keeps going. 

“We need to help them,” Allura says. 

“Form Voltron,” Keith says after a moment of quiet. 

“What?” Lance warbles. 

“More than half of these ships are still left,” Keith replies. “We won’t be able to do much unless we help Sincline on his terms.”

“We can siphon the raw quintessence from the inter-reality plane,” Allura adds. “We can blast through Ranveig’s forces that way.”

“…or rip open the fabric of space and time,” Pidge mutters darkly. 

“It’s worth a try,” Allura say. 

“Is it though?” Hunk whines. 

“Form Voltron,” Keith repeats. He feels the pull of the other Lions, feels as Black starts to shift and change. The arms form first, locking into place, and then the legs. Everything pulls and plugs together. It’s an ethereal feeling, something so heady and intoxicating as the transformation squeals away. The taste of stardust and quintessence is heavy on Keith’s tongue. 

_Patience yields focus,_ Keith thinks as he feels a secondary pull. Something strange tethers to Voltron’s back. It pulls and pulls and pulls. 

“What’s happening?” Lance asks. 

It’s instinctual, as if the Lions have read their collective mind and allows this force to pull them. There’s a snap, clean like the breaking of an arm. A kaleidoscope of colors filter through air. Crimson and violet swirling together until the brightness of white cascades through Keith’s vision. He feels himself, connected to the other paladins, to the other Lions. Another shift happens, of color and dimension and reality. The background is starry white, wispy with clouds of dust. And there, just on the horizon rests Sincline. 

“Lotor! Acxa! Zethrid! Ezor! Narti! Do you copy?” asks Keith.

“We read you loud and clear,” Acxa answers. “What’s it look like out there?”

“The Castleship is on its own. There are about fourteen warships left. We need help,” Pidge says, angered. 

“I think I may have a plan,” Allura repeats. “We can take this raw quintessence and siphon it out. _We_ can be the pipeline.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lotor croaks. 

Keith licks his lips. “What?”

“I’m sorry, we’ve been absorbing so much of this raw quintessence that it’s getting a bit difficult to move.”

“It’s too heavy,” Ezor adds. 

“You’re going to have to push through it,” Keith says. “I know it seems hard now, but we’ll get through this together.”

The other side of the communication link is silent for a moment. 

“Okay,” Zethrid says. “Let’s do this.” 

“How do you want to finish this, Allura?” Lance asks, disciplined. 

“You know that same sensation it took to get here? Well, let’s get back in tune with that same feeling and pull, pull all that raw energy towards us.” 

“That’s it?” Pidge asks. 

“Then we hop through another rift and…”

“We take out those ships?” Lotor asks. 

“Like a siphon, we’re the ones drawing out the quintessence,” says Hunk.

“Let’s do this,” Ezor says, giddy as she repeats her girlfriend’s own words.

Keith closes his eyes, blotting out the white expanse of the inter-reality plane. He sinks into his pilot’s seat, heavy and sated as the quintessence settles over him like a thick blanket. A swelling sensation fills his chest and then his belly. It aches as everything in his body tingles, his fingers twitching idly against the controls. His ears ring with the sound of wind chimes. And then a thrumming starts in the depths of Voltron. A blue light filters through, echoing through its frame. It keeps swelling and thrumming, echoing intensely as it continues on. And then finally it breaks. The pulling starts, like space is plucking them from the inter-reality plane. It pulls and pulls and pulls. They rocket backwards; Keith barely sees Sincline fly after them. 

Voltron is pulled back into the right reality. He sees the Castleship in the distance under heavy fire. The two cruisers are drifting farther and farther away, lost. And then silence as he releases the breath he had no idea he was holding. Like water filling his ears, the raw quintessence rockets out of Voltron’s chest, striking through eight of the warships in one strike. Sincline appears and takes out the remaining ships with one swoop of its blades, glittering bright white in the darkness of space. Behind them a cloud of white appears, a rift open and leaking miasma into space. 

Wild cheers and whooping fills Keith’s ears. It was a gamble, but it worked. But something stalls him from cheering too. In his peripheral vision, a wormhole appears. 

\--

“Are you out of your minds?” Larka berates them endlessly. “To make such things. You forced open space to travel through them. Do you know how dangerous that was? You all could have died. That is why we had the gate? That’s why it was so necessary. As a precaution. And here the lot of you are, ripping open space and…and…and for what? Siphoning—”

“Larka,” Thace warns, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“I had to send a message into the void,” Larka continues. “Because not even I know everything about these rifts. And Allura, for you to be the one to—”

“Larka,” Thace warns again. 

She sighs loudly. 

“Well, we know one thing. Those rifts are only going to grow bigger and bigger,” Hunk mumbles under his breath. 

“What sort of message?” Keith asks, head held high even as everyone else looks either bewildered or apprehensive.

“A specific distress signal to someone,” Thace answers. 

“I don’t have much alchemical knowledge for something like this either, even with the knowledge I gained from Oriande,” Allura admits. 

“But my mother does,” Larka says matter-of-factly.

“Larka, there may be the possibility that she may not answer,” Zarkon remarks. 

Keith thinks about the wormhole he saw on the way back to the Castleship. Suddenly, Krolia enters the bridge, hands clasped behind her back and her brow creased with worry. 

“We have a new guest aboard the Castleship,” Krolia states. 

It only takes a tick for Honerva to appear at the doors of the bridge, surrounded by Larka’s guards. She’s dressed in a shroud of purple with gold trim. Her cheeks look filled out like she’s been eating good in the recent movements. Her gaze flickers around the room, eyes falling to Zarkon and softening for only a moment. 

“Close the rifts,” Larka says abruptly. 

Honerva’s gaze flickers back over to Larka. She fixes an irritated look her way before speaking. “So demanding for a child.”

Keith watches his mother grit her teeth. 

“Close the rifts. _Please._ ”


End file.
